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UNIVERSITY  OF 
ILLINOIS  L.BRARY 
AT  URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
BOOKSTACKS 


-^ 


TALES  OF  MY   LANDLORD, 

COLLECTED   AND    REPORTED 
BY 

JEDEDIAH  CLEISHBOTHAM, 

SCHOOLMASTER  AND  PARISH-CLERK  OF  GANDERCLEUGH. 
SECOND  SERIES— COMPLETE  IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 


Hear,  Land  o'  Cakes  and  brither  Scots, 
Frae  Maidenkirk  to  Jonny  Groats', 
If  there's  a  hole  in  a'  your  coals, 

I  rede  ye  tent  it, 
A  chiel's  amang  you  takin'  notes. 

An'  faith  he'll  prent  it. 

Bums. 


THE  HEART  OF  MID-LOTHIAN. 


Uol.  JJ. 


WAVERLEY    NOVELS.        11. 


BOSTON  : 

SAMUEL  H.  PARKER,  NO.  164,  WASHINGTON-STREET. 


1828. 


Waverley  Press — Bostoiv 


fl5 


TO    THE    BEST    OF    PATRONS, 

A  PLEASED  AND  INDULGENT  READER, 
JEDEDIAH  CLEISHBOTHAM 

WISHES 
HEALTH,    AND    INCREASE,    AND    CONTENTMENT. 


Courteous  Reader, 
If  ingratitude  coraprehendeth  every  vice,  surely  so 
foul  a  stain  worst  of  all  beseemeth  him  whose  life  has  been 
devoted  to  instructing  youth  in  virtue  and  in  humane  let- 
ters. Therefore  have  I  chosen,  in  this  prolegomen,  to 
unload  my  burden  of  thanks  at  thy  feet,  for  the  favour 
with  which  thou  hast  kindly  entertained  the  Tales  of  my 
Landlord.  Certes,  if  thou  hast  chuckled  over  their  face- 
tious and  festivous  descriptions,  or  hast  had  thy  mind  fill- 
ed with  pleasure  at  the  strange  and  pleasant  turns  of  for- 
tune which  they  record,  verily,  I  have  also  simpered  when 
I  beheld  a  second  story  with  atticks,  that  has  arisen  on 
the  basis  of  m.y  small  domicll  at  Gandercleugh,  the  walls 
having  been  aforehand  pronounced  by  Deacon  Barrow 
to  be  capable  of  enduring  such  an  elevation.  Nor  has  it 
been  without  delectation,  that  I  have  indued  anew  coat, 
(snuff-brown,  and  with  metal  buttons,)  having  all  nether 
garments  corresponding  thereto.  We  do  therefore  lie,  in 
respect  to  each  other,  under  a  reciprocation  of  benefits, 
whereof  those  received  by  me  being  the  most  solid,  (in 
respect  that  a  new  house  and  a  new  coat  are  better  than 
a  new  tale  and  an  old  song,)  it  is  meet  that  my  gratitude 
should  be  expressed  with  the  louder  voice  and  more  pre- 
ponderating vehemence.       And  how  should  it  be  so  ex- 


IV  PROLE  GOME]N-. 

pressed  9 — Certainly  not  in  words  only,  but  in  act  and 
deed.  It  is  with  this  sole  purpose,  and  disclaiming  all 
intention  of  purchasing  that  pendicle  or  pofle  of  land 
called  the  Carlinescroft,  lying  adjacent  to  my  garden,  and 
measuring  seven  acres,  three  roods,  and  four  perches,  that 
I  have  committed  to  the  eyes  of  those  who  thought  well 
of  the  former  tomes,  these  four  additional  volumes  of  the 
Tales  of  my  Landlord.  Not  the  less,  if  Peter  Prayfort 
be  minded  to  sell  the  said  pofle,  it  is  at  his  own  choice  to 
say  so  ;  and,  perad venture,  he  may  meet  with  a  purchas- 
er :  unless  (gentle  reader)  the  pleasing  pourtraictures  of 
Peter  Pattieson,  now  given  unto  thee  in  particular,  and 
unto  the  public  in  general,  shall  have  lost  their  favour  in 
thine  eyes,  whereof  I  am  no  way  distrustful.  And  so 
much  confidence  do  1  repose  in  thy  continued  favour, 
that,  should  thy  lawful  occasions  call  thee  to  the  town  of 
Gandercleugh,  a  place  frequented  by  most  at  one  time  or 
other  in  their  lives,  I  will  enrich  thine  eyes  with  a  sight 
of  those  precious  manuscripts  whence  thou  hast  derived 
so  much  delectation,  thy  nose  with  a  snuiF  from  my  mull, 
and  thy  palate  with  a  dram  from  my  bottle  of  strong 
waters,  called,  by  the  learned  of  Gandercleugh,  the 
Domine's  dribble  of  drink. 

It  is  there,  O  highly  esteemed  and  beloved  reader,  thou 
wilt  be  able  to  bear  testimony,  through  the  medium  of 
thine  own  senses,  against  the  children  of  vauity,  who  have 
sought  to  identify  thy  friend  and  servant  with  I  know  not 
what  inditer  of  vain  fables  ;  who  hath  cumbered  the 
world  with  his  devices,  but  shrunken  from  the  responsi- 
bility thereof.  Truly,  this  hath  been  well  termed  a  gen- 
eration hard  of  faith  ;  since  what  can  a  man  do  to  assert 
his  property  in  a  printed  tome,  saving  to  put  his  name  in 
the  title-page  thereof,  with  his  description,  or  designation, 
as  the  lawyers  term  it,  and  place  of  abode  ^  Truly,  I 
would  have  such  sceptics  remember  how  they  themselves 
would  brook  to  have  their  works  ascribed  to  others,  their 
names  and  professions  imputed  as  forgeries,  and  their 
very  existence  brought  into  question  ;  even  although, 
peradventure,  it  may  be  it  is  of  little  consequence  to  any 


IPROLEGOMEX.  ▼ 

but  themselves,  not  only  whether  they  are  living  or  dead, 
but  even  whether  they  ever  hved  or  no.  Yet  have  aiy 
maligners  carried  their  uncharitable  censures  yet  farther. 
These  cavillers  have  not  only  doubted  mine  identity, 
although  thus  plainly  proved,  but  they  have  impeached 
my  veracity  and  the  authenticity  of  my  historical  narra- 
tives !  Truly,  I  can  only  say  in  answer,  that  I  have  been 
cautelous  in  quoting  mine  authorities.  It  is  true,  indeed, 
that  if  I  had  hearkened  with  only  one  ear,  1  might  have 
rehearsed  my  tale  with  more  acceptation  from  those  who 
love  to  hear  but  half  the  truth.  It  is,  it  may  hap,  not  alto- 
gether to  the  discredit  of  our  kindly  nation  of  Scotland, 
that  we  are  apt  to  take  an  interest,  warm,  yea  partial,  in 
the  deeds  and  sentiments  of  our  forefathers.  The  de- 
scendants of  one,  whom,  his  adversaries  describe  as  a 
perjured  prelatist,  are  desirous  that  their  predecessor 
should  be  held  moderate  in  his  power,  and  just  in 
his  execution  of  its  privileges,  when,  truly,  the  unini- 
passioned  peruser  of  the  Annals  of  these  times  shall 
deem  him  sanguinary,  violent,  and  tyrannical.  Again, 
the  representatives  of  the  suffering  non-conformists  de- 
sire that  their  ancestors,  the  Cameronians,  shall  be 
represented  not  simply  as  honest  enthusiasts,  oppressed 
for  conscience-sake,  but  persons  of  fine  breeding  and 
valiant  heroes.  Truly,  the  historian  cannot  gratify 
these  predilections.  He  must  needs  describe  the  cava- 
liers as  proud  and  high-spirited,  cruel,  remorseless,  and 
vindictive;  the  suffering- party  as  honourably  tenacious  of 
their  opinions  under  persecution  ;  their  own  tempers  be- 
ing, however,  sullen,  fierce,  and  rude ;  their  opinions 
absurd  and  extravagant,  and  their  whole  course  of  con- 
duct that  of  persons  whom  hellebore  would  better  have 
suited  than  prosecutions  unto  death  for  high-treason. 
Natheless,  while  such  and  so  preposterous  were  the  opin- 
ions on  either  side,  there  were,  it  cannot  be  doubted, 
men  of  virtue  and  worth  on  both,  to  entitle  either  party 
to  claim  merit  from  its  martyrs.  It  has  been  demanded 
of  me,  Jedediah  Cleishbotham,  by  what  right  I  am  enti- 
le     VOL.    I. 


VI  PROLEGOME]!^. 

tied  to  constitute  myself  an  impartial  judge  of  their  dis- 
crepancies of  opinions,  seeing  (as  it  is  stated)  that  I  must 
necessarily  have  descended  from  one  or  other  of  the  con- 
tending parties,  and  be,  of  course,  wedded  for  better  or 
for  worse,  according  to  the  reasonable  practice  of  Scot- 
land, to  its  dogmata  or  opinions,  and  bound,  as  it  were, 
by  the  tie  matrimonial,  or,  to  speak  without  metaphor, 
ex  jure  sanguinis,  to  maintain  them  in  preference  to  all 
others. 

But,  nothing  denying  the  rationality  of  the  rule,  which 
calls  on  all  now  Hving  to  rule  their  political  and  religious 
opinions  by  those  of  their  great-grand-fathers,  and  inevi- 
table as  seems  the  one  or  the  other  horn  of  the  dilemma 
betwixt  which  my  adversaries  conceive  they  have  pinned 
me  to  the  wall,  I  yet  spy  some  means  of  refuge,  and 
claim  a  privilege  to  write  and  speak  of  both  parties  with 
impartiality.  For,  O  ye  powers  of  logic  !  when  the  pre- 
latistsandpresbyterians  of  old  times  went  together  by  the 
ears  in  this  unlucky  country,  my  ancestor  (venerated  be 
his  memory  !)  was  one  of  the  people  called  Quakers,  and 
suffered  severe  handling  from  either  side,  even  to  the  ex- 
tenuation of  his  purse  and  the  incarceration  of  his  person. 

Craving  thy  pardon,  gentle  Reader,  for  these  few  words 
concerning  me  and  mine,  I  rest,  as  above  expressed,  thy 
sure  and  obligated  friend,  J.  C. 

Gandercleugh,         ) 
this  1st  of  April,  1818.  3 


THE 


HEART  OF  MID-LOTHIAN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

BEING    INTRODUCTORY. 

So  down  thy  hill,  romantic  Ashbourn,  glides 
The  Derby  dilly,  carrying  six  insides. 

Frere. 

The  times  have  changed  in  nothing  more  (we  follow  as 
we  were  wont  the  manuscript  of  Peter  Paltieson)  than  in 
the  rapid  conveyance  of  intelligence  and  communication 
betwixt  one  part  of  Scotland  and  another.  It  is  not  above 
twenty  or  thirty  years,  according  to  the  evidence  of  many 
creditable  witnesses  now  alive,  since  a  little  miserable 
horse-cart,  performing  with  difficulty  a  journey  of  thirty 
miles  j9er  diem,  carried  our  mails  from  the  capital  of  Scot- 
land to  its  extremity.  Nor  was  Scotland  much  more  defi- 
cient in  these  accommodations,  than  our  richer  sister  had 
been  about  eighty  years  before.  Fielding,  in  his  Tom 
Jones,  and  Farquhar,  in  a  little  farce  called  the  Stage- 
Coach,  have  ridiculed  the  slowness  of  these  vehicles  of 
public  accommodation.  According  to  the  latter  author- 
ity, the  highest  bribe  could  only  induce  the  coachman  to 
promise  to  anticipate  by  half  an  hour  the  usual  time  of  his 
arrival  at  the  Bull  and  Mouth. 

But  in  both  countries  these  ancient,  slow,  and  sure 
modes  of  conveyance  are  now  ahke  unknown  ;  mail- 
coach  races  against  mail-coach,  and  high-flyer  against 
high-flyer,  through  the  most  remote  districts  of  Britain. 
And  in  our  village   alone,  three  post-coaches,  and  four 


8  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

coaches  with  men  armed,  and  in  scarlet  cassocks,  thunder 
through  the  streets  each  day,  and  rival  in  brilHancy  and 
noise  the  invention  of  the  celebrated  tyrant, 

Demens,  qui  nimbos  et  non  imitabile  fnlmen, 
^re  et  comipedum  pulsu,  simularat,  equorum. 

Now  and  then,  to  complete  the  resemblance,  and  to 
correct  the  presumption  of  the  venturous  charioteers,  it 
does  happen  that  the  career  of  these  dashing  rivals  of 
Salmoneus  meets  with  as  undesirable  and  violent  a  termi- 
nation as  that  of  their  prototype.  It  is  upon  such  occa- 
sions that  the  Insides  and  Outsides,  to  use  the  appropriate 
vehicular  phrases,  have  reason  to  rue  the  exchange  of  the 
slow  and  safe  motion  of  the  ancient  Fly-coaches,  which, 
compared  with  the  chariots  of  Mr.  Palmer,  so  ill  deserve 
the  name.  The  ancient  vehicle  used  to  settle  quietly 
down,  like  a  ship  scuttled  and  left  to  sink  by  the  gradual 
influx  of  the  waters,  while  the  modern  is  smashed  to 
pieces  with  the  velocity  of  the  same  vessel  hurled  against 
breakers,  or  rather  with  the  fury  of  a  bomb  bursting  at 
the  conclusion  of  its  career  through  the  air.  The  late 
ingenious  3Ir.  Pennant,  whose  humour  it  was  to  set  his 
face  in  stern  opposition  to  these  speedy  conveyances,  had 
collected,  I  have  heard,  a  formidable  list  of  such  casual- 
ties, which,  joined  to  the  imposition  of  innkeepers,  whose 
charges  the  passenger  has  no  time  to  dispute  ;  the  sauci- 
ness  of  the  coachman,  and  the  uncontrolled  and  despotic 
authority  of  the  tyrant  called  the  Guard,  held  forth  a 
picture  of  horror,  to  which  murder,  theft,  fraud,  and  pec- 
ulation, lent  all  their  dark  colouring.  But  that  which 
gratifies  the  impatience  of  the  human  disposition  will  be 
practised  in  the  teeth  of  danger,  and  in  defiance  of  ad- 
monition ;  and,  in  despite  of  the  Cambrian  Antiquary, 
Mail-coaches  not  only  roll  their  thunders  round  the  base 
of  Penmen-Maur  and  Cader-Edris,  but 

Friglited  Skiddaw  hears  afar 
The  rauliug  of  the  unscylhed  car. 

And   perhaps  the   echoes  of   Ben-Nevis   may  soon   be 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAX.  ^ 

awakened  by  the  bugle,  not  of  a  warlike  chieftain,  but  of 
the  guard  of  a  mail-coach. 

It  was  a  fine  summer  day,  and  our  little  school  had 
obtained  a  half  hoHday  by  the  intercession  of  a  good- 
humoured  visiter.^  I  expected  by  the  coach  a  new  num- 
ber of  an  interesting  periodical  publication,  and  walked 
forward  on  the  highway  to  meet  it,  with  the  impatience 
which  Cowper  has  described  as  actuating  the  resident  in 
the  country,  when  longing  for  intelligence  from  the  mart 
of  news  : 


-"  The  grand  debate. 


The  popular  harajsgue, — the  tart  reply, — 
The  logic,  cind  the  wisdom,  and  the  wit, 
And  the  loud  laugh — 1  long  to  know  them  all  ; — 
I  burn  to  set  the  imprisoned  wranglers  free, 
And  give  them  voice  and  utterance  again.*'' 

It  was  with  such  feelings  that  I  eyed  the  approach  of 
the  new  coach,  lately  established  on  our  road,  and  known 
by  the  name  of  the  Somerset,  which,  to  say  truth,  pos- 
sesses some  interest  for  me,  even  when  it  conveys  no 
such  important  information.  The  distant  tremulous 
sound  of  its  wheels  was  heard  just  as  I  gained  the  sum- 
mit of  the  gentle  ascent,  called  the  Goshn-brae,  from 
which  you  command  an  extensive  view  down  the  valley 
of  the  river  Gander.  The  public  road,  which  comes  up 
the  side  of  that  stream,  and  crosses  it  at  a  bridge  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  place  where  I  was  standing, 
runs  partly  through  inclosures  and  plantations,  and  partly 
through  open  pasture  land.  It  is  a  childish  amusement 
perhaps, — but  my  life  has  been  spent  with  children,  and 
why  should  not  my  pleasure  be  like  theirs  ^ — childish  as 
it  is,  then,  I  must  own  I  have  had  great  pleasure  in  watch- 
ing the  approach  of  the  carriage,  where  the  openings  of 
the  road  permit  it  to  be  seen.  The  gay  glancing  of 
the  equipage,  its  diminished  and  toy-like  appearance  at 


*  His  honour  Gilbert  Goslimi  of  Gandercleugh  ;    for  I  love  to  be  precise  in 
matters  of  importance J.  C. 


10  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

a  distance,  contrasted  with  the  rapidity  of  its  motion,  its 
appearance  and  disappearance  at  intervals,  and  the  pro- 
gressively increasing  sounds  that  announce  its  nearer  ap- 
proach, have  all  to  the  idle  and  listless  spectator,  who  has 
nothing  more  important  to  attend  to,  something  of  awak- 
ening interest.  The  ridicule  may  attach  to  me,  which  is 
flung  upon  many  an  honest  citizen,  who  watches  from 
the  window  of  his  villa,  the  passage  of  the  stage-coach  ; 
but  it  is  a  very  natural  source  of  amusement  notwith- 
standing, and  many  of  those  who  join  in  the  laugh  are 
perhaps  not  unused  to  practise  it  in  secret. 

On  the  present  occasion,  however,  fate  had  decreed 
that  1  should  not  enjoy  the  consummation  of  the  amuse- 
ment, by  seeing  the  coach  rattle  past  me  as  I  sat  on  the 
turf,  and  hearing  the  hoarse  grating  voice  of  the  guard 
as  he  skimmed  forth  for  my  grasp  the  expected  packet 
witlK)ut  the  carriage  checking  its  course  for  an  instant. 
I  had  seen  the  vehicle  thunder  down  the  hill-that  leads  to 
the  bridge  with  more  than  its  usual  impetuosity,  glittering 
all  the  while  by  flashes  from  a  cloudy  tabernacle  of  the 
dust  which  it  had  raised,  and  leaving  a  train  behind  it 
on  the  road  resembling  a  wreath  of  summer  mist.  But 
it  did  not  appear  on  the  top  of  the  nearer  bank  within  the 
usual  space  of  three  minutes,  which  frequent  observation 
had  enabled  me  to  ascertain  was  the  medium  time  for 
crossing  the  bridge  and  mounting  the  ascent.  When 
double  that  space  had  elapsed,  ]  became  alarmed,  and 
walked  hastily  forward.  As  I  came  in  sight  of  the  bridge, 
the  cause  of  the  delay  was  too  manifest,  for  the  Somer- 
set had  made  a  summerset  in  good  earnest,  and  over- 
turned so  completely,  that  it  was  literally  resting  upon 
the  ground,  with  the  roof  undermost,  and  the  four  wheels 
in  the  air.  The  "  exertions  of  the  guard  and  coachman," 
both  of  whom  were  gratefully  commemorated  in  the 
newspapers,  having  succeeded  in  disentangling  the  horses 
by  cutting  the  harness,  were  now  proceeding  to  extri- 
cate the  insides  by  a  sort  of  summary  and  Caesarean  pro- 
cess of  delivery,  forcing  the  hinges  from  one  of  the  doors 
which  they   could  not  open  otherwise.     In  this  manner 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  11 

were  two  disconsolate  damsels  set  at  liberty  from  the 
womb  of  the  leathern  conveniency.  As  they  immediately 
began  to  settle  their  clothes,  which  were  a  little  deranged, 
as  may  be  presumed,  I  concluded  they  had  received  no 
injury,  and  did  not  venture  to  obtrude  my  services  at  their 
toilette,  for  which,  I  understand,  I  have  since  been  re- 
flected upon  by  the  fair  sufferers.  The  outsider,  who 
must  have  been  discharged  from  their  elevated  situation 
by  a  shock  resembling  the  springing  of  a  mine,  escaped, 
nevertheless,  with  the  usual  allowance  of  scratches  and 
bruises,  excepting  three,  who  having  been  pitched  into 
the  river  Gander,  were  dimly  seen  contending  with  the 
tide,  like  the  reliques  of  j^neas's  shipwreck,^- 

Rari  apparent  nantes  in  gurgUe  vasto. 

\  applied  my  poor  exertions  where  they  seemed  to  be 
most  needed,  and,  with  the  assistance  of  one  or  two  of 
the  company  who  had  escaped  unhurt,  easily  succeeded 
in  fishing  out  two  of  the  unfortunate  passengers,  who  were 
stout  active  young  fellows ;  and  but  for  the  preposterous 
length  of  their  great-coats,  and  the  equally  fashionable 
latitude  and  longitude  of  their  Wellington  trowsers,  would 
have  required  little  assistance  from  any  one.  The  third 
was  sickly  and  elderly,  and  might  have  perished  but  for 
the  efforts  used  to  preserve  him. 

When  the  two  great-coated  gentlemen  had  extricated 
themselves  from  the  river,  and  shaken  their  ears  like  huge 
water-dogs,  a  violent  altercation  ensued  betwixt  them  and 
the  coachman  and  guard,  concerning  the  cause  of  their 
oveiihrow.  In  the  course  of  the  squabble,  I  observed 
that  both  my  new  acquaintances  belonged  to  the  law,  and 
that  their  professional  sharpness  was  like  to  prove  an 
overmatch  for  the  surly  and  official  tone  of  the  guardians 
of  the  vehicle.  The  dispute  ended  in  the  guard  assuring 
the  passengers  that  they  should  have  seats  in  a  heavy 
coach  which  would  pass  that  spot  in  less  than  half  an 
hour,  providing  it  was  not  full.  Chance  seemed  to 
favour  this  arrangement,  for  when  the  expected  vehicle 
arrived  there  w^ere  only  two  places  occupied  in  a  carriage 


12  TALES    OF    MY   LANDLORD. 

which  professed  to  carry  six.  The  two  ladies  who  had 
been  disinterred  out  of  the  fallen  vehicle  were  readily- 
admitted,  but  positive  objections  were  stated  by  those 
previously  in  possession  to  the  admittance  of  the  two 
lawyers,  whose  wetted  garments  being  much  of  the  nature 
of  well-soaked  spunges,  there  was  every  reason  to  be- 
lieve they  would  refund  a  considerable  part  of  the  water 
they  had  collected,  to  the  inconvenience  of  their  fellow- 
passengers.  On  the  other  hand,  the  lawyers  rejected  a 
seat  on  the  roof,  alleging  that  they  had  only  taken  that 
station  for  pleasure  for  one  stage,  but  were  entitled  in  all 
respects  to  free  egress  and  regress  from  the  interior,  to 
which  their  contract  positively  referred.  After  some  al- 
tercation, in  which  something  was  said  upon  the  edict 
J^autce  caupones  stabularii,  the  coach  went  off  leaving 
the  learned  gentlemen  to  abide  by  their  action  of  dam- 
ages. 

They  immediately  applied  to  me  to  guide  them  to  the 
next  village  and  the  best  inn ;  and  from  the  account  I 
gave  them  of  the  Wallace-head,  declared  they  were  much 
better  pleased  to  stop  there  than  to  go  forward  upon  the 
terms  of  that  impudent  scoundrel,  the  guard  of  the  Som- 
erset. All  that  they  now  wanted  was  a  lad  to  carry  their 
travelling  bags,  who  was  easily  procured  from  an  adjoin- 
ing cottage ;  and  they  prepared  to  walk  forward,  when 
they  found  there  was  another  passenger  in  the  same  de- 
serted situation  with  themselves.  This  was  the  elderly 
and  sickly-looking  person,  who  had  been  precipitated  into 
the  river  along  with  the  two  young  lawyers.  He,  it 
seems,  had  been  too  modest  to  push  his  own  plea  against 
the  coachman  when  he  saw  that  of  his  betters  rejected, 
and  now  remained  behind  with  a  look  of  timid  anxiety, 
plainly  intimating  that  he  was  deficient  in  those  means 
of  recommendation  which  are  necessary  passports  to  the 
hospitality  of  an  inn. 

I  ventured  to  call  the  attention  of  the  two  dashing 
young  blades,  for  sucl^they  seemed,  to  the  desolote  con- 
dition of  their  feP.ow-traveller.  They  took  the  hint  with 
ready  good  nature. 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-IOTHIAN.  1^3 

"  O  true,  Mr.  Dunover,"  said  one  of  the  youngsters, 
"  you  must  not  remain  on  the  pave  here  ;  you  must  go 
and  have  some  dinner  with  us — Halkit  and  I  must  have 
a  post-chaise  to  go  on,  at  all  events,  and  we  will  set  you 
down  wherever  suits  you  best." 

The  poor  man,  ibr  such  his  dress,  as  well  as  his  diffi- 
dence, bespoke  him,  made  the  sort  of  acknowledging  bow 
by  which  says  a  Scotchman,  "  It's  too  much  honour  for 
the  like  of  me ;"  and  followed  humbly  behind  his  gay 
patrons,  all  three  besprinkling  the  dusty  road  as  they 
walhed  along  with  the  moisture  of  their  drenched  gar- 
ments, and  exhibiting  the  singular  and  somewhat  ridicu- 
lous appearance  of  three  persons  suffering  from  the  oppo- 
site extreme  of  humidity,  while  the  summer  sun  was  at 
its  height,  and  every  thing  else  around  them  had  the 
expression  of  heat  and  drought.  The  ridicule  did  not 
escape  the  young  gendemen  themselves,  and  they  had 
made  what  might  be  received  as  one  or  two  tolerable  jests 
on  the  subject  before  they  had  advanced  far  on  their  per- 
egrination. 

"  We  cannot  complain,  like  Cowley,"  said  one  of  them^jj^^ 
"  that  Gideon's  fleece  remains  dry,  while  all  around  is 
moist ;  this  »s  the  reverse  of  the  miracle." 

"  We  ought  to  be  received  with  gratitude  in  this  good 
town  ;  we  bring  a  supply  of  what  they  seem  to  need 
most,"  said  Halkit. 

"  And  distribute  it  with  unparalleled  generosity,"  re- 
plied his  companion  ;  "  performing  the  part  of  three 
water-carts  for  the  benefit  of  their  dusty  roads." 

"  We  come  before  them  too,"  said  Halkit,  "  in  full 
professional  force — counsel  and  agent" — 

*'  And  client,"  said  the  young  advocate,  looking  behind 
him.  And  then  added,  lowering  his  voice,  "  that  looks 
as  if  he  had  kept  such  dangerous  company  too  long." 

It  w^as,  indeed,  too  true,  that  the  humble  follower  of 
the  gay  young  men  had  the  thread-bare  appearance  of  a 
worn-out  litigant,  and  I  could  not  but  smile  at  the  con- 

2       VOL.    I. 


14  TALES   or   MY  LANDLORD. 

ceit,  though  anxious  to  conceal  my  mirth  from  the  object 
of  it. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  Wallace  Inn,  the  elder  of  the 
Edinburgh  gentlemen,  and  whom  I  understood  to  be  a 
barrister,  insisted  that  I  should  remain  and  lake  part  of 
their  dinner  ;  and  their  inquiries  and  demands  speedily  put 
my  landlord  and  his  whole  family  in  motion  to  produce  the 
best  cheer  which  the  larder  and  cellar  afforded,  and  pro- 
ceed to  cook  it  to  the  best  advantage,  a  science  in 
which  our  entertainers  seemed  to  be  admirably  skilled. 
In  other  respects  they  were  lively  young  men  in  the  hey- 
day of  youth  and  good  spirits,  playing  the  part  which  is 
common  to  the  higher  classes  of  the  law  at  Edinburgh, 
and  which  nearly  resembles  that  of  the  young  templars 
in  the  days  of  Steele  and  Addison.  An  air  of  giddy 
gaiety  mingled  with  ihe  good  sense,  taste,  and  information 
which  their  conversation  exhibited  ;  and  it  seemed  to  be 
their  object  to  unite  the  character  of  men  of  fashion  and 
lovers  of  the  polite  arts.  A  fine  gentleman,  bred  up  in 
the  thorough  idleness  and  inanity  of  pursuit,  which  I  un- 
derstand is  absolutely  necessary  to  the  character  in  per-* 
fection,  might  in  all  probability  have  traced  a  tinge  of 
professional  pedantry  which  marked  the  barrister  in  spite 
of  his  efforts,  and  something  of  active  bustle  in  his  com- 
panion, and  would  certainly  have  detected  more  than  a 
fashionable  mixture  of  information  and  animated  interest 
in  the  language  of  both.  But  to  me,  who  had  no  pre- 
tensions to  be  so  critical,  my  companions  seemed  to  form 
a  very  happy  mixture  of  good  breeding  and  liberal  in- 
formation, with  a  disposition  to  lively  rattle,  pun,  and  jest, 
amusing  to  a  grave  man,  because  it  is  what  he  iiimself 
can  least  easily  command. 

The  thin  pale-faced  man,  whom  their  good  nature  had 
brought  into  their  society,  looked  out  of  place,  as  well  as 
out  of  spirits  ;  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  seat,  and  kept  the 
chair  at  two  feet  distance  from  the  table  ;  thus  incom- 
moding himself  considerably  in  conveying  the  victuals  to 
his  mouth,  as  if  by  way  of  penance  for  partaking  of  them 
in  the  company  of  his   superiors.     A   short  time  after 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  15 

dinner,  declining  all  entreaty  to  partake  of  the  wine,  which 
circulated  freely  round,  he  informed  himself  of  the  hour 
when  the  chaise  had  been  ordered  to  attend  ;  and  say- 
ing, he  would  be  in  readiness,  modestly  withdrew  from 
the   apartment. 

"  Jack,"  said  the  barrister  to  his  companion,  "  I  re- 
member that  poor  fellow's  face  ;  you  spoke  more  truly 
than  you  were  aware  of ;  he  really  is  one  of  my  clients, 
poor  man." 

"  Poor  man  !"  echoed  Halkit — ''  I  suppose  you  mean 
he  is  your  one  and  only  chent." 

"  That's  not  my  fault.  Jack,"  replied  the  other,  whose 
name  1  discovered  was  Hardie.  "  You  are  to  give  me 
all  your  business,  you  know  ;  and  if  you  have  none,  the 
learned  gentleman  here  knows  nothing  can  come  of  noth- 
ing." 

"  You  seem  to  have  brought  something  to  nothing 
though,  in  the  case  of  that  honest  man.  He  looks  as 
if  he  were  just  about  to  honour  with  his  residence  the 
Heart  of  Mid-Lothian." 

"  You  are  mistaken — he  is  just  delivered  from  it — our 
friend  here  looks  for  an  explanation.  Pray,  Mr.  Pattie- 
son  have  you  been  in  Edinburgh  9" 

I  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Then  you  must  have  passed,  occasionally  at  least, 
though  probably  not  so  frequently  and  faithfully  as  I  am 
doomed  to  do,  through  a  narrow  intricate  passage,  leading 
out  of  the  north-west  corner  of  the  Parliament  Square, 
and  passing  by  a  high  and  antique  building,  with  turrets 
and  iron  grates. 

Making  good  the  saying  odd, 

Near  the  church  and  far  from  God " 

Mr.  Halkit  broke  in  upon  his  learned  counsel,  to  con- 
tribute his  moiety  to  the  riddle — "  Having  at  the  door  the 
sign  of  the  Red  Man" 

"  And  being  on  the  whole,"  resumed  the  counsellor, 
interrupting  his  friend  in  his  turn,  "  a  sort  of  place  where 


16  TALES    OF    MT    LANDLORD. 

misfortune  is  happily  confounded  with  guilt,  where  all 
who  are  in  wish  to  get  out" 

"  And  where  none  who  have  the  good  luck  to  be  out 
wish  to  get  in,"  added  his  companion. 

"  I  conceive  you,  gentlemen,"  rephed  I ;  "  you  mean 
the  prison." 

"  The  prison,"  added  the  young  lawyer — "  you  have 
hit  it — the  very  reverend  Tolbooth  itself ;  and  let  me 
tell  you,  you  are  obliged  to  us  for  describing  it  with  so 
much  modesty  and  brevity;  for  with  whatever  ampli- 
fications we  might  have  chosen  to  decorate  the  subject, 
you  lay  entirely  at  our  mercy,  since  the  Fathers  Con- 
script of  our  city  have  decreed,  that  the  venerable  edi- 
fice itself  shall  not  remain  in  existence  to  confirm  or  to 
confute  us." 

"  Then  the  Tolbooth  of  Edinburgh  is  called  the  Heart 
of  Mid-Lothian  V  said  1. 

"  So  termed  and  reputed,  1  assure  you." 

"  I  think,"  said  I  with  the  bashful  diffidence  with 
which  a  man  lets  slip  a  pun  in  presence  of  his  superiors, 
"  the  metropolitan  county  may,  in  that  case,  be  said  to 
have  a  sad  heart." 

"  Right  as  my  glove,  Mr.  Pattieson,"  added  Mr.  Har- 
die ;  "  and  a  close  heart,  and  a  hard  heart — Keep  it  up, 
Jack." 

"  And  a  wicked  heart,  and  a  poor  heart,"  answered 
Halkit  doing  his  best. 

"  And  yet  it  may  be  called  in  some  sort  a  strong  heart, 
and  a  high  heart,"  rejoined  the  advocate.  *'  You  see  I 
can  put  you  both  out  of  heart." 

"  I  have  played  all  my  hearts,"  said  the  younger 
gentleman. 

"Then  we'll  have  another  lead,"  answered  his  com- 
panion.— "  And  as  to  the  old  and  condemned  Tolbooth, 
w^hat  pity  the  same  honour  cannot  be  done  to  it  as  has 
been  done  to  many  of  its  inmates.  Why  should  not  the 
Tolbooth  have  its  ^  Last  Speech,  Confession,  and  Dying 
Words  V  The  old  stones  would  be  just  as  conscious  of 
the  honour  as  many  a  poor  devil  who  has  dangled  like 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  17 

a  tassel   at  the  west  end  of  it,  while  the  hawkers  were 
shouting  a  confession  the  culprit  had  never  heard  of." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  I,  "  if  I  might  presume  to  give 
mv  opinion,  it  would  he  a  tale  of  unvaried  sorrow  and 
gJilt." 

*'  Not  entirely,  my  friend,"  said  Hardie ;  "  a  prison 
is  a  world  within  itself,  and  has  its  own  business,  griefs, 
and  joys  pecuhar  to  its  circle.  Its  inmates  are  sometimes 
short-hved,  but  so  are  soldiers  on  service  ;  they  are  poor 
relatively  to  the  world  without,  but  there  are  degrees  of 
wealth  and  poverty  among  them,  and  so  some  are  rela- 
tively rich  also.  They  cannot  stir  abroad,  but  neither 
can  the  garrison  of  a  besieged  fort,  nor  the  crew  of  a  ship 
at  sea  ;  and  they  are  not  under  a  dispensation  quite  so 
desperate  as  either,  for  they  may  have  as  much  food  as 
they  have  money  to  buy,  and  are  not  obliged  to  work 
whether  they  have  food  or  not. 

"  But  whai  variety  of  incident,"  said  I,  (not  without 
a  secret  view  to  my  present  task,)  "  could  possibly  be 
derived  from  such  a  work  as  you  are  pleased  to  talk  of  .^" 

"  Infinite,"  replied  the  young  advocate.  "  Whatever 
of  guilt,  crime,  imposture,  folly,  unheard-of  misfortunes, 
and  unlooked-for  change  of  fortune,  can  be  foutid  to 
chequer  hfe,  my  Last  Speech  of  the  Tolbooth  should 
illustrate  with  examples  sufficient  to  gorge  even  the  pub- 
lic's all-devouring  appetite  for  the  wonderful  and  horrible. 
The  inventor  of  fictitious  narratives  has  to  rack  his  brains 
for  means  to  diversify  his  tale,  and  after  all  can  hardly 
hit  upon  characters  or  incidents  which  have  not  been  used 
again  and  again,  until  they  are  famiHar  to  the  eye  of  the 
reader,  so  that  the  developement,enleve7nent,xhe  desperate 
wound  of  which  the  hero  never  dies,  the  burning  fever 
from  which  the  heroine  is  sure  to  recover,  become  a 
mere  matter  of  course.  I  join  with  my  honest  friend 
Crabbe,  and  have  an  unlucky  propensity  to  hope  when 
hope  is  lost,  and  to  rely  upon  the  cork-jacket,  which  car- 
ries the  heroes  of  romance  safe  through  all  the  billows 

2*       VOL.    I. 


18  TALES    OF   MY   LANDLORD. 

of  affliction."     He  then  declaimed  the  following  passage, 
rather  with  too  much  than  too  little  emphasis  : 

"  Much  have  I  fear'd,  but  am  no  more  afraid, 

When  some  chaste  beauty,  by  some  wretch  betray'd. 

Is  drawn  away  with  such  distracted  speed. 

That  she  anticipates  a  dreadful  deed. 

Not  so  do  I — Let  solid  walls  impound 

The  captive  fair,  and  dig  a  moat  around  ; 

Let  there  be  brazen  locks  and  bars  of  steel. 

And  keepers  cruel,  such  as  never  feel ; 

With  not  a  single  note  the  purse  supply. 

And  when  she  begs,  let  men  and  maids  deny ; 

Be  windows  there  from  which  she  dares  not  fall, 

And  help  so  distant,  'tis  in  vain  to  call  ; 

Still  means  of  freedom  will  some  Power  devise. 

And  from  the  baffled  ruffian  snatch  his  prize. 

"  The  end  of  uncertainty,"  he  concluded,  "  is  the 
death  of  interest,  and  hence  it  happens  that  no  one  now 
reads  novels." 

"  Hear  him,  ye  gods  !"  returned  his  companion.  "  I 
assure  you,  Mr.  Pattieson,  you  will  hardly  visit  this  learn- 
ed gentleman,  but  you  are  likely  to  find  the  new  novel 
most  in  repute  lying  on  his  table,  snugly  intrenched,  how- 
ever, beneath  Stair's  Institutes,  or  an  open  volume  of 
Morrison's  Decisions." 

*'  Do  I  deny  it  9"  said  the  hopeful  jurisconsult,  "  or 
wherefore  should  I,  since  it  is  well  known  these  Dalilahs 
seduce  my  wisers  and  my  betters  '?  May  they  not  be  found 
lurking  amidst  the  multiplied  memorials  of  our  most  dis- 
tinguished counsel,  and  even  peeping  from  under  the 
cushion  of  a  judge's  arm  chair  9  Our  seniors  at  the  bar, 
within  the  bar,  and  even  on  the  bench,  read  novels,  and, 
if  not  belied,  some  of  them  have  written  novels  into  the 
bargain.  I  only  say,  that  I  read  from  habit  and  from  in- 
dolence, not  from  real  interest ;  that,  like  Ancient  Pistol 
devouring  his  leek,  T  read  and  swear  till  I  get  to  the  end 
of  the  narrative.  But  not  so  in  the  real  records  of  hu- 
man vagaries — not  so  in  the  State  Trials,  or  in  the  Books 
of  Adjournal,  where  every  now  and  then  you  read  new 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  19 

pages  of  the  human  heart,  and  turns  of  fortune  far  be- 
yond what  the  boldest  novelist  ever  attempted  to  produce 
from  the  coinage  of  his  brain." 

"  And  for  such  narratives,"  I  asked,  "  you  suppose  the 
History  of  the  Prison  of  Edinburgh  might  afford  appro- 
priate materials  9" 

"  In  a  degree  unusually  ample,  my  dear  sir,"  said 
Hardie — "  fill  your  glass,  however,  in  the  meanwhile. 
Was  it  not  for  many  years  the  place  in  which  the  Scot- 
tish parliament  met ']  Was  it  Jiot  James's  place  of  re- 
fuge, when  the  mob,  inflamed  by  a  seditious  preacher, 
broke  forth  on  him  with  the  cries  of  *  The  sword  of  the 
Lord  and  of  Gideon — bring  forth  the  wicked  Haman  V 
Since  that  time  how  many  hearts  have  throbbed  within 
these  walls,  as  the  tolling  of  the  neighbouring  bell  an- 
nounced to  them  how  fast  the  sands  of  their  life  were  ebb- 
ing ;  how  many  must  have  sunk  at  the  sound — how^  many 
were  supported  by  stubborn  pride  and  dogged  resolution — 
how  many  by  the  consolation  of  religion  9  Have  there  not 
been  some,  who,  looking  back  on  the  motives  of  their 
crimes,  were  scarce  able  to  understand  how  they  should 
have  had  such  temptation  as  to  seduce  them  from  virtue  ? 
And  have  there  not  perhaps  been  others,  who,  sensible 
of  their  innocence,  were  divided  between  indignation  at 
the  undeserved  doom  which  they  were  to  undergo,  con- 
sciousness that  they  had  not  deserved  it,  and  racking  anx- 
iety to  discover  some  way  in  which  they  might  yet  vindicate 
themselves  9  Do  you  suppose  any  of  these  deep,  pow- 
erful and  agitating  feelings  can  be  recorded  and  perused 
without  exciting  a  corresponding  depth  of  deep,  power- 
ful, and  agitating  interest  9 — O  !  do  but  wait  till  f  pub- 
lish the  Causes  Celebres  of  Caledonia,  and  you  w^ill  find 
no  want  of  a  novel  or  a  tragedy  for  some  time  to  come. 
The  true  thing  will  triumph  over  the  brightest  inventions 
of  the  most  ardent  imagination.  Magna  est  Veritas  et 
prcevalehit.'*^ 

"  I  have  understood,"  said  I,  encouraged  by  the  affa- 
bility of  my  rattling  entertainer,  "  that  less  of  this  inter- 
est must  attach  to  Scottish  jurisprudence  than  to  that  of 


20  TALES   OF   MY   LANDLORD. 

any  other  country.  The  general  morality  of  our  peo- 
ple, their  sober  and  prudent  habits" 

"  Secure  them,"  said  the  barrister,  "  against  any  great 
increase  of  professional  thieves  and  depredators,  but  not 
against  wild  and  wayward  starts  of  fancy  and  passion,  pro- 
ducing crimes  of  an  extraordinary  description,  which  are 
precisely  those  to  the  detail  of  which  we  hsten  with  thril- 
ling interest.  England  has  been  much  longer  a  highly 
civilized  country  ;  her  subjects  have  been  rendered  strictly 
amenable  to  laws  administered  without  fear  or  favour,  a 
complete  division  of  labour  has  taken  place  among  her  sub- 
jects, and  the  very  thieves  and  robbers  form  a  distinct  class 
in  society,  subdivided  among  themselves  according  to  the 
subject  of  their  depredations,  and  the  mode  in  which  they 
carry  them  on,  acting  upon  regular  habits  and  principles, 
which  can  be  calculated  and  anticipated  at  Bow-Street, 
Hatton- Garden,  or  the  Old-Bailey.  Our  sister  kingdom  is 
like  a  cultivated  field, — the  farmer  expects  that,  in  spite  of 
all  his  care,  a  certain  number  of  weeds  will  rise  with  the 
corn,  and  can  tell  you  beforehand  their  names  and  appear- 
ance. But  Scotland  is  hke  one  of  her  own  Highland 
glens,  and  the  moralist  who  reads  the  records  of  her  crim-, 
inal  jurisprudence,  will  find  as  many  curious  anomalous 
facts  in  the  history  of  mind,  as  the  botanist  will  detect 
rare  specimens  among  her  dingles  and  cliffs." 

"  And  that's  all  the  good  you  have  obtained  from  three 
perusals  of  the  Commentaries  on  Scotch  Criminal  Juris- 
prudence 9"  said  his  companion.  "  1  suppose  the  learn- 
ed author  very  little  thinks  that  the  facts  which  his  erudi- 
tion and  acuteness  have  accumulated  for  the  illustration 
of  legal  doctrines,  might  be  so  arranged  as  to  form  a  sort 
of  appendix  to  the  half-bound  and  slip-shod  volumes  of 
the  circulating  Hbrary." 

"  I'll  bet  you  a  pint  of  claret,"  said  the  elder  lawyer, 
*'  that  he  will  not  feel  sore  at  the  comparison.  But,  as 
we  say  at  the  bar,  '  I  beg  I  may  not  be  interrupted  ;'  I 
have  much  more  to  say  upon  my  Scottish  collection  ot 
Causes  Celebres.  You  v/ill  please  recollect  the  scope  and 
motive  given  for  the  contrivance  and  execution  of  many 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  21 

extraordinary  and  daring  crimes,  by  the  long  civil  dissen- 
tions  of  Scotland — by  the  hereditary  jurisdictions,  which, 
until  1748,  vested  the  investigation  of  crimes  in  judges, 
ignorant,  partial,  or  interested — by  the  habits  of  the  gentry, 
shut  up  in  their  distant  and  solhary  mansion-houses,  nurs- 
ing their  revengeful  passions  just  to  keep  their  blood  from 
stagnating — not  to  mention  that  amiable  national  qualifi- 
cation, called  the  perfervidum  ingenium  Scotorum,  which 
our  law}^ers  join  in  alleging  as  a  reason  for  the  severity 
of  some  of  our  enactments.  When  I  come  to  treat  of 
matters  so  mysterious,  deep,  and  dangerous,  as  these  cir- 
cumstances have  given  rise  to,  the  blood  of  each  reader 
shall  be  curdled,  and  his  epidermis  crisped  into  goose  skin. 
— But  'st — here  comes  the  landlord,  with  tidings,  I  sup- 
pose that  the  chaise  is  ready." 

It  was  no  such  thing — the  tidings  bore,  that  no  chaise 
could  be  had  that  evening,  for  Sir  Peter  Plyem  had  car- 
ried forward  my  landlord's  two  pair  of  horses  that  morn- 
ing to  the  ancient  royal  borough  of  Bubbleburgh,  to  look 
after  his  interest  there.  But  as  Bubbleburgh  is  only  one 
of  a  set  of  five  boroughs  which  club  their  shares  for  a 
member  of  parliament.  Sir  Peter's  adversary  had  judici- 
ously watched  his  departure,  in  order  to  commence  a  can- 
vass in  the  no  less  royal  borough  of  Bitem,  which,  as  all 
the  world  knows,  lies  at  the  very  termination  of  Sir  Peter's 
avenue,  and  has  been  held  in  leading  strings  by  him  and 
his  ancestors  for  time  immemorial.  Now  Sir  Peter  was 
thus  placed  in  the  situation  of  an  ambitious  monarch,  who, 
after  having  commenced  a  daring  inroad  into  his  enemies' 
territories^  is  suddenly  recalled  by  an  invasion  of  his  own 
hereditary  dominions.  He  was  obHged  in  consequence 
to  return  from  the  half-won  borough  of  Bubbleburgh,  to 
look  after  the  half-lost  borough  of  Bitem,  and  the  two  pair 
of  horses  which  had  carried  him  that  morning  to  Bubble- 
burgh, were  now  forcibly  detained  to  transport  him,  his 
agent,  his  valet,  his  jester,  and  his  hard-drinker,  across 
the  country  to  Bitem.  The  cause  of  this  detention,  which 
to  me  was  of  as  httle  consequence  as  it  may  be  to  the 
reader,  was  important  enough  to  my  companions  to  recon- 


22  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

cile  them  with  the  delay.  Like  eagles,  they  smelled  the 
battle  afar  off,  ordered  a  magnum  of  claret  and  beds  at 
the  Wallace,  and  entered  at  full  career  into  the  Bubble- 
burgh  and  Bitem  politics,  with  all  the  probable  "  petitions 
and  complaints"  to  which  they  were  likely  to  give  rise. 

In  the  midst  of  an  anxious,  animated,  and,  to  me,  most 
unintelligible  discussion  concerning  provosts,  bailhes,  dea- 
cons, sets  of  boroughs,  leets,  town-clerks,  burgesses  resi- 
dent and  non-resident,  all  of  a  sudden  the  lawyer  recol- 
lected himself.  "  Poor  Dunover,  we  must  not  forget 
him  ;"  and  the  landlord  was  despatched  in  quest  of  the 
pauvre  honteux,  with  an  earnestly  civil  invitation  to  him 
for  the  rest  of  the  evening.  I  could  not  help  asking  the 
young  gentlemen  if  they  knew  the  history  of  this  poor 
man,  and  the  counsellor  applied  himself  to  his  pocket  to 
recover  the  memorial  or  brief  from  which  he  had  stated 
his  cause. 

"  He  has  been  a  candidate  for  our  remedium  misera- 
bile,^^  said  Mr.  Hardie,  "  commonly  called  SicesAo  bono- 
rum.  As  there  are  divines  who  have  doubted  the  eternity 
of  future  punishments,  so  the  Scotch  lawyers  seem  to  have 
thought  that  the  crime  of  poverty  might  be  atoned  for  by 
something  short  of  perpetual  imprisonment.  After  a 
month's  confinement,  you  must  know,  he  is  entitled,  on  a 
sufficient  statement  to  our  supreme  court,  setting  forth  the 
amount  of  his  funds,  and  the  nature  of  his  misfortunes, 
and  surrendering  all  his  effects  to  his  creditors,  to  claim 
to  be  discharged  from  prison." 

"  J  had  heard,"  I  replied,  "  of  such  a  humane  regu- 
lation." 

"  Yes,"  said  Halkit,  "  and  theTbeauty  of  it  is,  as  the 
foreign  fellow  said,  you  may  get  the  cessio  when  the  hono- 
rums  are  all  spent — But  what,  are  you  puzzHng  in  your 
pockets  to  seek  your  only  memorial  among  old  play-bills, 
letters  requesting  a  meeting  of  the  Faculty,  rules  of  the 
Speculative  Society,  syllabus'  of  lectures — all  the  miscel- 
laneous contents  of  a  young  lawyer's  pocket,  which  con- 
tains every  thing  but  briefs  and  bank-notes  ?  Can  you 
not  state  a  case  of  cessio  without  your  memorial  ?     Why 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTH lAX.  23 

it  is  done  every  Saturday.  The  events  follow  each  other 
as  regularly  as  clock-work,  and  one  form  of  condescen- 
dence might  suit  every  one  of  them." 

"  This  is  very  unlike  the  variety  of  distress  which  this 
gentleman  stated  to  fall  under  the  consideration  of  your 
judges,"  said  I. 

"  True,"  replied  Halkit ;  "  but  Hardie  spoke  of  crini' 
inal  jurisprudence,  and  thi?  business  is  purely  civil.  I 
could  plead  a  cessio  myself  without  the  inspiring  honours 
of  a  gown  and  three-tailed  periwig — Listen.— My  client 
was  bred  a  journeyman  weaver — made  some  little  money 
— took  a  farm — (for  conducting  a  farm,  like  driving  a  gig, 
comes  by  nature) — late  severe  times — induced  to  sign 
bills  with  a  friend,  for  wiiich  he  had  no  Value — landlord 
sequestrates — creditors  accept  a  composition — pursuer 
sets  up  a  public-house — fails  a  second  time — is  incsrcera> 
ted  for  a  debt  of  ten  pounds,  seven  shillings  and  sixpence 
— his  debts  amount  to  blank — his  losses  to  blank — his 
funds  to  blank — leaving  a  balance  of  blank  in  his  favour. 
There  is  no  opposition  ;  your  lordships  will  please  ^rant 
commission  to  take  his  oath." 

Hardie  now  renounced  his  ineffectual  search  for  the 
brief,  in  which  there  was  perhaps  a  little  affectation,  and 
told  us  the  tale  of  poor  Dunover's  distresses,  with  a  tone 
in  which  a  degree  of  feehng,  whicli  he  seemed  ashamed  of 
as  unprofessional,  mingled  with  his  attempts  at  wit,  and  did 
him  more  honour.  It  was  one  of  those  tales  which  seem 
to  r-rgue  a  sort  of  ill  luck  or  fatality  attached  to  the  hero. 
A  weiJ-iuformed,  industrious,  and  blameless,  but  poor  and 
bashful  m^ii,  had  in  vain  essayed  all  the  usual  means  by 
which  others  acquire  independence,  yet  had  never  suc- 
ceeded beyond  the  attainment  of  bare  subsistence.  Dur- 
ing a  brief  gleam  of  hope,  rather  than  of  actual  prosperity, 
he  had  added  a  wife  and  family  to  his  cares,  but  the  dawn 
was  speedily  overcast.  Every  thing  retrograded  with  him 
towards  the  verge  of  the  miry  Slough  of  Despond,  which 
yawns  for  insolvent  debtors  ;  and  after  catching  at  each 
twig,  and  experiencing  the  protracted  3o;ony  of  feeling 
them  one  by  one  elude  his  grasp,  be  actually  sunk  into  the 


24  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

miry  pit  whence  he  had  been  extricated  by  the  profes- 
sional f^Xci lions  of  Hardie. 

"  Ai-.d,  1  suppose,  now  you  have  dragged  this  poor 
devil  asliore,  you  will  leave  him  half  naked  on  the  beach 
to  provide  for  himself  9"  said  Halkit.  "  Hark  ye," — and 
he  whispered  something  in  his  ear,  of  which  the  penetrat- 
ing and  insinuating  words,  "  Interest  with  my  Lord,"  alone 
reached  mine. 

"  It  is  pessimi  exempli,''^  said  Hardie,  laughing,  "  to 
provide  for  a  ruined  client  ;  but  I  was  thinking  of  what 
you  mention,  provided  it  can  be  managed — But  hush  ! 
here  he  comes." 

The  recent  relation  of  the  poor  man's  misfortunes  had 
given  him,  I  was  pleased  to  observe,  a  claim  to  the  atten- 
tion and  respect  of  the  young  men,  who  treated  him  with 
great  civility,  and  gradually  engaged  him  in  a  conversation, 
which,  much  to  my  satisfaction,  again  turned  upon  the 
C(jLU6'Zs  Cehbres  of  Scotland.  Emboldened  by  the  kind- 
ness with  which  he  was  treated,  Mr.  Dunover  began  to 
contribute  liis  share  to  the  amusement  of  the  evening. 
Jailc,  iJke  other  places,  have  their  ancient  traditions,  known 
only  to  the  inhabitants,  and  handed  down  from  one  set  of 
the  melancholy  lodgers  to  the  next  who  occupy  their  cells. 
Some  of  these,  which  Dunover  mentioned,  were  interest- 
ing, and  served  to  illustrate  the  narratives  of  remarkable 
trials,  which  Hardie  had  at  his  finger  ends,  and  which  his 
companion  was  also  well  skilled  in.  This  sort  of  conver- 
sation passed  away  the  evening  till  the  early  hour  when 
Mr.  Dunover  chose  to  retire  to  rest,  and  1  also  retreated 
to  take  down  memorandums  of  what  I  had  learned,  in 
order  to  add  another  narrative  to  those  which  it  has  been 
my  chief  amusement  to  collect,  and  to  write  out  in  detail. 
The  two  young  men  ordered  a  broiled  bone,  Madeira 
negus,  and  a  pack  of  cards,  and  commenced  a  game  at 
picquet. 

Next  morning  the  travellers  left  Gandercleugh.  I  af- 
terwards learned  from  tlie  papers  that  both  have  been 
since  engaged  in  the  great  political  cause  of  Bubblebvirgh 
and  Bitem,  a  summary  case,  and  entitled  to   particular 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAX.  25 

despatch  ;  but  which,  it  is  thought,  nevertheless  may  out- 
last the  duration  of  the  parliament  to  which  the  contest 
refers.  Mr.  Halkit,  as  the  newspapers  informed  me,  acts 
as  agent  or  solicitor  ;  and  Mr.  Hardie  opened  for  Sir 
Peter  Plyem  with  singular  ability,  and  to  such  purpose, 
that  I  understand  he  has  since  had  fewer  play-bills  and 
more  briefs  in  his  pocket.  And  both  the  young  gentle- 
men deserve  their  good  fortune  ;  for  I  learned  from  Dun- 
over,  who  called  on  me  some  weeks  afterwards,  and  com- 
municated the  intelligence  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  that  their 
interest  had  availed  to  obtain  him  a  small  office  for  the 
decent  maintenance  of  his  family  ;  and  that,  after  a  train 
of  constant  and  uninterrupted  misfortune,  he  could  trace 
a  dawn  of  prosperhy  to  his  having  the  good  fortune  to  be 
flung  from  the  top  of  a  mail-coach  into  the  river  Gander, 
in  company  with  an  advocate  and  a  writer  to  the  signet. 
The  reader  will  not  perhaps  deem  himself  equally  obliged 
to  the  accident,  since  it  brings  upon  him  the  following  nar- 
rative, founded  upon  the  conversation  of  the  evening. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Whoe'er's  been  at  Paris  must  needs  know  the  Greve, 
The  fatal  retreat  of  the  unfortunate  brave, 
Where  hono-jr  and  justice  most  oddly  contribute 
To  ease  heroes'  pains  by  an  halter  and  gibbet. 

There  death  breaks  the  shackles  which  force  had  put  on, 

And  the  hangman  completes  what  the  judge  but  began ; 

There  the  squire  of  the  poet,  and  knight  of  the  post, 

Find  their  pains  no  more  baulked,  and  their  hopes  no  more  oross'd. 

Prior. 

In  former  times,  England  had  her  Tyburn,  to  which 
the  devoted  victims  of  justice  were  conducted  in  solemn 
procession,  up  what  is  now  called  Oxford-Road.     la  Ed- 

3       VOL.    I. 


26  TALES    OF    MY   LANDLORD. 

inburgli,  a  large  open  street,  or  rather  oblong  square,  sur- 
rounded by  high  houses,  called  the  Grass-market,  was  used 
for  the  same  melancholy  purpose.  It  was  not  ill  chosen 
for  such  a  scene,  being  of  considerable  extent,  and  there- 
fore fit  to  accommodate  a  great  number  of  spectators, 
such  as  are  usually  assembled  by  this  melancholy  specta- 
cle. On  the  other  hand,  few  of  the  houses  which  sur- 
round it  were,  even  in  early  times,  inhabited  by  persons 
of  fashion  ;  so  that  those  likely  to  he  offended  or  over 
deeply  affected  by  such  unpleasant  exhibitions,  were  not 
in  the  way  of  having  their  quiet  disturbed  by  them.  The 
houses  in  the  Grass-market  are,  generally  speaking, 
of  a  mean  description  ;  yet  the  place  is  not  without  some 
features  of  grandeur,  being  overhung  by  the  southern  side 
of  the  huge  rock  on  vvhicli  the  castle  stands,  and  by  the 
moss-grown  battlements  and  turretted  wall  of  that  ancient 
fortress. 

It  v/as  the  custom,  until  within  these  five-and-twenty 
years,  or  thereabouts,  to  use  this  esplanade  for  the  scene 
of  public  executions.  The  fatal  day  was  announced  to 
the  public,  by  the  appearance  of  a  huge  black  gallows- 
tree  towards  the  eastern  end  of  the  Grass-market  This 
ill-omened  apparition  was  of  great  height,  with  a  scaffold 
surrounding  it,  and  a  double  ladder  placed  against  it,  for 
the  ascent  of  the  unhappy  criminal  and  the  executioner. 
As  this  apparatus  was  always  arranged  before  dawn,  it 
seemed  as  if  the  gallows  had  grown  out  of  the  earth  in 
the  course  of  one  night,  like  the  production  of  some  foul 
demon  ;  and  I  well  remember  the  fright  v.ith  which  the 
school-boys,  when  I  was  one  of  their  number,  used  to  re- 
gard these  ominous  signs  of  deadly  preparation.  On  the 
night  after  the  execution  the  gallows  ag^.in  disappeared, 
and  was  conveyed  in  silence  and  darkness  to  the  place 
where  it  was  usually  deposited,  which  vvas  one  of  the  vaults 
under  the  Parliament-house,  or  courts  of  justice.  This 
mode  of  execution  is  now  exchanged  for  one  similar  to 
that  in  front  of  Newgate, — with  what  beneficial  effect  is 
uncertain.     The  mental  sufferings  of  the  pannel  are  in- 


THE    HEART    OF    MID'LOTHIAX.  27 

deed  shortened.  He  no  longer  walks  between  the  attend- 
ant clergymen,  dressed  in  his  grave-clothes,  through  a 
considerable  part  of  the  city,  looking  like  a  moving  and 
walking  corpse,  while  yet  an  inhabitant  of  this  world  ;  but, 
as  the  ultimate  purpose  of  punishment  has  in  view  the 
prevention  of  crimes,  it  may  at  least  be  doubted,  whether, 
in  abridging  the  melancholy  ceremony,  we  have  not  in  part 
diminished  that  appalling  effect  upon  the  spectators  which 
is  the  useful  end  of  all  such  inflicdons,  and  in  considera- 
tion of  which  alone,  unless  in  very  particular  cases,  cap- 
ital sentences  can  be  ahogether  justified. 

Upon  the  7th  day  of  September,  1736,  these  ominous 
preparations  for  execution  were  descried  in  the  place  we 
have  described,  and  at  an  early  hour  the  space  around 
began  to  be  occupied  by  several  groups,  who  gazed  on 
the  scaffold  and  gibbet  with  a  stern  and  vindictive  show  of 
satisfaction  very  seldom  testified  by  the  populace,  whose 
good-nature,  in  most  cases,  forgets  the  crime  of  the  con- 
demned person,  and  dwells  only  on  his  misery.  But  the 
act  of  which  the  expected  culprit  had  been  convicted  was 
of  a  description  calculated  nearly  and  closely  to  awaken 
and  irritate  the  resentful  feelings  of  the  multitude.  The 
tale  is  well  known  ;  yet  it  is  necessary  to  recapitulate  its 
leading  circumstances,  for  the  better  understanding  what  is 
to  follow  ;  and  the  narrative  may  prove  long,  but  I  trust 
not  uninteresting,  even  to  those  who  have  heard  its  gen- 
eral issue.  At  any  rate,  some  detail  is  necessary,  in  or- 
der to  render  intelligible  the  subsequent  events  of  our 
narrative. 

Contraband  trade,  though  it  strikes  at  the  root  of  legit- 
imate government,  by  encroaching  on  its  revenues,— 
though  it  injures  the  fair  trader,  and  debauches  the 
minds  of  those  engaged  in  it, — is  not  usually  looked 
upon,  either  by  the  vulgar  or  by  their  betters,  in  a  very 
heinous  point  of  view.  On  the  contrary,  in  those  counties 
where  it  prevails,  the  cleverest,  boldest,  and  m.ost  intelli- 
gent of  the  peasantry,  are  uniformly  engaged  in  illicit 
transactions,  and  very  often  with  the  sanction  of  the  far- 


28  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

mers  and  inferior  gentry.  Smuggling  was  almost  univer- 
sal in  Scotland  in  the  reigns  of  George  J.  and  11.  ;  for 
the  people,  unaccustomed  to  imposts,  and  regarding  them 
as  an  unjust  aggression  upon  their  ancient  liberties,  made 
no  scruple  to  elude  them  whenever  it  was  possible  to  do  so. 
The  county  of  Fife,  bounded  by  two  friths  on  the  south 
and  north,  and  by  the  sea  on  the  east,  and  having  a  num- 
ber of  small  sea-portS;  was  long  famed  for  maintaining 
successfully  a  contraband-trade  ;  and,  as  there  were  many 
seafaring  men  residing  there,  who  had  been  pirates  and 
buccaneers  in  their  youth,  there  were  not  wanting  a  suffi- 
cient number  of  daring  men  to  carry  it  on.  Among  these, 
a  fellow  called  Andrew  Wilson,  originally  a  baker  in  the 
village  of  Pathhead,  was  particularly  obnoxious  to  the 
revenue  officers.  He  was  possessed  of  great  personal 
strength,  courage,  and  cunning, — was  perfectly  acquaint- 
ed with  the  coast,  and  capable  of  conducting  the  most 
desperate  enterprizes.  On  several  occasions  he  succeed- 
ed in  baffling  the  pursuit  and  researches  of  the  king's  offi- 
cers ;  but  he  became  so  much  the  object  of  their  suspi- 
cions and  watchful  attention,  that  at  length  he  was  totally 
ruined  by  repeated  seizures.  The  man  became  desperate. 
He  considered  himself  as  robbed  and  plundered  ;  and 
took  it  into  his  head,  that  he  had  a  right  to  make  reprisals, 
as  he  could  find  opportunity.  Where  the  heart  is  prepar- 
ed for  evil,  opportunity  is  seldom  long  wanting.  This 
Wilson  learned,  that  the  Collector  of  the  Customs  at 
Kirkaldy  had  come  to  Pittenweem,  in  the  course  of  his 
official  round  of  duty,  with  a  considerable  sum  of  public 
money  in  his  custody.  As  the  amount  was  greatly  within 
the  value  of  the  goods  which  had  been  siezed  from  him, 
he  felt  no  scruple  of  conscience  in  resolving  to  reimburse 
himself  for  his  losses,  at  the  expense  of  the  Collector  and 
the  revenue.  He  associated  wnth  himself  one  Robertson, 
and  two  other  idle  young  men,  whom,  having  been  con- 
cerned in  the  same  ilhcit  trade,  he  persuaded  to  view  the 
transaction  in  the  same  justifiable  light  in  which  he  himself 
considered  it.  They  watched  the  motions  of  the  Col- 
lector ;  they  broke  forcibly  into  the  house  wheve  he  lodg- 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAX.  29 

ed, — WilsoD,  with  two  of  his  associates,  entering  the  Col- 
lector's apartment,  while  Robertson  the  fourth,  kept  watch 
at  the  door  with  a  drawn  cutlass  in  his  hand.  The  officer 
of  the  customs,  conceiving  his  Hfe  in  danger  escaped  out 
of  his  bed-room  window,  and  fled  in  his  shirt,  so  that  the 
plunderers,  with  much  ease,  possessed  themselves  of  about 
two  hundred  pounds  of  public  money.  This  robbery  was 
committed  in  a  very  audacious  manner,  for  several  per- 
sons were  passing  in  the  street  at  the  time.  But  Robert- 
son, representing  the  noise  they  heard  as  a  dispute  or  fray 
betwixt  the  Collector  and  the  people  of  the  house,  the 
worthy  citizens  of  Pittenweem  felt  themselves  no  way 
called  on  to  interfere  in  behalf  of  the  obnoxious  revenue 
officer ;  so,  satisfying  themselves  with  this  very  superfi- 
cial account  of  the  matter,  hke  the  Levite  in  the  parable, 
they  passed  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way.  An  alarm 
was  at  length  given,  military  were  called  in,  the  depreda- 
tors were  pursued,  the  booty  recovered,  and  Wilson  and 
Robertson  tried  and  condemned  to  death,  chiefly  on  the 
evidence  of  an  accomplice. 

Many  thought,  that,  in  consideration  of  the  men's  er- 
roneous opinion  of  the  nature  of  the  action  they  had  com- 
mitted, justice  might  have  been  satisfied  with  a  less  for- 
feiture than  that  of  two  Hves.  On  the  other  hand,  from 
the  audacity  of  the  fact,  a  severe  example  was  judged 
necessary,  and  such  was  the  opinion  of  the  government. 
VVben  it  became  apparent  that  the  sentence  of  death  was 
to  be  executed,  files  and  other  implements  necessary  for 
their  escape,  were  transmitted  secretly  to  the  culprits  by 
a  friend  from  without.  By  these  means  they  sawed  a  bar 
out  of  one  of  the  prison-windows,  and  might  have  made 
their  escape,  but  for  the  obstinacy  of  Wilson,  who,  as  he 
was  daringly  resolute,  was  doggedly  pertinacious  of  his 
opinion.  His  comrade,  Robertson,  a  young  and  slender 
man,  proposed  to  make  the  experiment  of  passing  the 
foremost  through  the  gap  they  had  made,  and  enlarging  it 
from  the  outside,  if  necessary,  to  allow  Wilson  free  pas- 
sage.    Wilson,  however,  insisted  on  making  the  first  ex- 

3*       VOL.    I. 


30  TALES    OF   MY   LANDiORD. 

periment,  and  being  a  robust  and  lusty  man,  he  not  only 
found  it  impossible  to  get  through  betwixt  the  bars,  but 
by  his  struggles,  he  jammed  himself  so  fast,  that  he  was 
unable  to  draw  his  body  back  again.  In  these  circumstan- 
ces discovery  became  unavoidable,  and  sufficient  precau- 
tions were  taken  by  the  jailor  to  prevent  any  repetition  of 
the  same  attempt.  Robertson  uttered  not  a  word  of  re- 
flection on  his  companion  for  the  consequences  of  his  ob- 
stinacy ;  but  it  appeared  from  the  sequel,  that  Wilson's 
mind  was  deeply  impressed  with  the  recollection,  that,  but 
for  him,  his  comrade,  over  whose  mind  he  exercised  con- 
siderable influence,  would  not  have  engaged  in  the  crim- 
inal enterprize  which  had  terminated  thus  fatally  ;  and 
that  now  he  had  become  his  destroyer  a  second  time, 
since,  but  for  his  obstinacy,  Robertson  might  have  effected 
his  escape.  Minds  hke  Wilson's,  even  when  exercised  in 
evil  practices,  sometimes  retain  the  power  of  thinking  and 
resolving  with  enthusiastic  generosity.  His  whole  mind 
was  now  bent  on  the  possibility  of  saving  Robertson's  Hfe, 
without  the  least  respect  to  his  own.  The  resolution 
which  he  adopted,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  carried  it 
into  effect,  were  striking  and  unusual. 

Adjacent  to  the  tolbooth  or  city  gaol  of  Edinburgh,  is 
one  of  the  three  churches  into  which  the  cathedral  of  St. 
Giles  is  now  divided,  called,  from  its  vicinity,  the  Tolbooth 
Church.  It  was  the  custom,  that  criminals  under  sen- 
tence of  death  were  brought  to  this  church,  with  a  suffi- 
cient guard,  to  hear  and  join  in  public  worship  on  the 
Sabbath  before  execution.  It  was  supposed  that  the 
hearts  of  these  unfortunate  persons,  however  hardened 
before  against  feelings  of  devotion,  could  not  but  be  ac- 
cessible to  them  upon  uniting  their  thoughts  and  voices, 
for  the  last  time,  along  with  their  fellow-mortals,  in  ad- 
dressing their  Creator.  And  to  the  rest  of  the  congre- 
gation, it  was  thought  it  could  not  but  be  impressive  and 
affecting,  to  find  their  devotions  mingling  with  those,  who, 
sent  by  the  doom  of  an  earthly  tribunal  to  appear  where 
the  W'hole  earth  is  judged,  might  be  considered  as  beings 
trembling  on  the  verge  of  eternity.     The  practice,  how- 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAX.  31 

ever  edifying,  has  been  discontinued  since  the  incident  we 
are  about  to  detail. 

The  clergyman,  whose  duty  it  was  to  officiate  in  the 
Tolbooth  Church,  had  concluded  an  affecting  discourse, 
part  of  which  was  particularly  directed  to  the  unfortunate 
men,  Wilson  and  Robertson,  who  were  in  the  pew  set 
apart  for  the  persons  in  their  unhappy  situation,  each  se- 
cured betwixt  two  soldiers  of  the  city  guard.  The  cler- 
-gynian  had  reminded  them,  that  the  next  congregation 
they  must  jjoin  would  be  that  of  the  just,  or  of  the  un- 
just :  that  the  psalms  they  now  heard  must  be  exchang- 
ed, in  the  space  of  two  brief  days,  for  eternal  hallelujahs, 
or  eternal  lamentations  ;  and  that  this  fearful  alternative 
must  depend  upon  the  state  to  which  they  may  be  able 
to  bring  their  minds  before  the  moment  of  awful  prepara- 
tion :  that  they  should  not  despair  on  account  of  the  sud- 
denness of  the  summons,  but  rather  feel  this  comfort 
in  their  misery,  that,  though  all  who  now  Hfted  the  voice, 
or  bent  the  knee  in  conjunction  with  them,  lay  under  the 
same  sentence  of  certain  death,  they  only  had  the  advan- 
tage of  knowing  the  precise  moment  at  which  it  should 
be  executed  upon  them.  "  Therefore,"  urged  the  good 
man,  his  voice  trembling  with  emotion,  "  redeem  the  time, 
my  unhappy  brethren,  which  is  yet  left,  and  remember, 
that,  with  the  grace  of  Him  to  whom  space  and  time  are 
but  as  nothing,  salvation  may  yet  be  assured,  even  in  the 
pittance  of  delay  which  the  laws  of  vour  country  afford 
you." 

Robertson  was  observed  to  weep  at  these  words  ;  but 
Wilson  seemed  as  one  whose  brain  had  not  entirely  re- 
ceived their  meaning,  or  whose  thoughts  were  deeply  im- 
pressed with  some  different  subject  ; — an  expression  so 
natural  to  a  person  in  his  situation,  that  it  excited  neither 
suspicion  nor  surprise. 

The  benediction  was  pronounced  as  usual,  and  the  con- 
gregation was  dismissed,  many  Hngering  to  indulge  their 
curiosity  with  a  more  fixed  look  at  the  two  criminals,  who 
now,  as  well  as  their  guards,  rose  up,  as  if  to  depart  when 
the  crowd  should  permit  them.      A  murmur  of  compas- 


O'i  TALES    OF    MY   LANDLORD. 

sion  was  heard  to  pervade  the  spectators,  the  more  gen- 
eral, perhaps,  on  account  of  the  alleviating  circumstances 
of  the  case  ;  when  all  at  once,  Wilson,  who,  v/e  have 
noticed,  was  a  very  strong  man,  seized  two  of  the  soldiers, 
one  with  each  hand,  and  calhng  at  the  same  time  to  his 
companion,  "  Run,  Geordie,  run  !"  threw  himself  on  a 
third,  and  fastened  his  teeth  on  the  collar  of  his  coat. 
Robertson  stood  for  a  second  as  if  thunderstruck,  and  un- 
able to  avail  himself  of  the  opportunity  of  escape  ;  but 
the  cry  of  "  Run,  run,"  being  echoed  from  many  around, 
whose  feelings  surprised  them  into  a  very  natural  interest 
in  his  behalf,  he  shook  off  the  grasp  of  the  remaining  sol- 
dier, threw  himself  over  the  pew,  mixed  with  the  dispers- 
ing congregation,  none  of  whom  felt  inclined  to  stop  a 
poor  wretch  taking  this  last  chance  for  his  life,  gained  the 
door  of  the  church,  and  was  lost  to  all  pursuit. 

The  generous  intrepidity  which  Wilson  had  displayed 
on  this  occasion  augmented  the  feeling  of  compassion 
which  attended  his  fate.  The  public,  where  their  own 
prejudices  are  not  concerned,  easily  engaged  on  the 
side  of  disinterestedness  and  humanity,  admired  Wilson's 
behaviour,  and  rejoiced  in  Robertson's  escape.  This 
general  feeling  was  so  great,  that  it  excited  a  vague  re- 
port that  Wilson  would  be  rescued  at  the  place  of  execu- 
tion, either  by  the  mob  or  by  some  of  his  old  associates, 
or  by  some  second  extraordinary  exertion  of  strength 
and  courage  on  his  own  part.  The  magistrates  thought 
it  their  duty  to  provide  against  the  possibility  of  dis- 
turbance. They  ordered  out,  for  protection  of  the 
execution  of  the  sentence,  the  greater  part  of  their  own 
City  Guard,  under  the  command  of  Captain  Porteous,  a 
man  whose  name  became  too  memorable  from  the  melan- 
choly circumstances  of  the  day,  and  subsequent  events. 
It  may  be  necessary  to  say  a  word  about  this  person,  anc 
the  corps  which  he  commanded.  But  the  subject  is  o 
importance  sufficient  to  deserve  another  chapter. 


THE    HEART   OF   MID-IOTHIAN.  33 


CHAPTER  III. 

And  thou,  great  god  of  aqua-vitae  ! 
Wha  swajs  the  empire  of  this  city, 
(When  fou  we're  sometimes  capernoity,) 

Be  thou  prepared, 
To  save  U3  frae  that  black  banditti, 

The  City  Guard  ; 

Ferguson's  Daft  Days. 

Captain  John  Porteous,  a  name  memorable  in  the 
traditions  of  Edinburgh,  as  well  as  in  the  records  of  crim- 
inal jurisprudence,  was  the  son  of  a  citizen  of  Edinburgh, 
who  endeavoured  to  breed  him  up  to  his  own  mechanical 
trade.  The  youth,  however,  had  a  wild  and  irreclaimable 
propensity  to  dissipation,  which  finally  sent  him  to  serve  in 
the  corps  long  maintained  in  the  service  of  the  States  of 
Holland,  and  called  the  Scotch-Dutch.  Here  he  learned 
military  discipline  ;  and,  returning  afterwards,  in  the 
course  of  an  idle  and  wandering  Hfe,  to  his  native  city, 
his  services  were  required  by  the  magistrates  of  Edin- 
burgh in  the  disturbed  year  1715,  for  disciplining  their 
City  Guard,  in  which  he  shortly  afterwards  received  a 
captain's  commission.  It  was  only  by  his  military  skill, 
and  an  alert  and  resolute  character,  that  he  merited  this 
promotion,  for  he  is  said  to  have  been  a  man  of  profligate 
habhs,  an  unnatural  son,  and  a  brutal  husband.  He  was, 
however,  useful  .in  his  station,  and  his  harsh  and  fierce 
manners  rendered  him  formidable  to  rioters  or  other  dis- 
turbers of  the  public  peace. 

The  corps  in  which  he  held  his  command  is,  or  perhaps 
we  should  rather  say  was,  a  body  of  about  one  hundred 
and  twenty  soldiers,  divided  into  three  companies,  and 
regularly  armed,  clothed,  and  embodied.  It  was  chiefly 
veterans  who  enlisted  in  this  corps,  having  the  benefit  of 
working  at  their  trades  when  they  were  off  duty.  These 
men  had  the  charge  of  preserving  public  order,  repressing 


34  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

riots  and  street  robberies,  and  attending  on  all  public  oc- 
casions where  confusion  oj-  popular  disturbance  might  be 
expected.  Poor  Fjerguson,  whose  irregularities  some- 
times led  him  into  unpleasant  rencontres  with  these  mili- 
tary conservators  of  public  order,  and  who  mentions  them 
so  often  that  he  may  be  termed  their  poet  laureate,  thus 
admonishes  his  readers,  warned  doubtless  by  his  own  ex- 
perience : 

"  Gude  folk,  as  ye  come  frae  the  fair, 

Bide  yont  frae  this  black  squad  ; 
There's  nae  sic  savagos  elsewhere 

Allowed  to  wear  cockad." 

In  fact,  the  soldiers  of  the  City  Guard,  being,  as  we 
have  said,  in  general  discharged  veterans,  who  had  strength 
enough  remaining  for  this  municipal  duty,  and  being, 
moreover,  in  general  Highlanders,  were  neither  by  birth, 
education,  or  former  habits,  trained  to  endure  with  much 
patience  the  insults  of  the  rabble,  or  the  provoking  petu- 
lance of  truant  school-boys,  and  idle  debauchees  of  all 
descriptions,  with  whom  their  occupation  brought  them 
into  contact.  On  the  contrary,  the  tempers  of  the  poor 
old  fellows  were  soured  by  the  indignities  with  which  the 
mob  distinguished  them  on  many  occasions,  and  frequently 
might  have  required  the  soothing  strain  of  the  poet  we 
have  just  quoted — 

"  O  soldiers  !  for  your  ain  dear  sakes, 
For  Scotland's  love,  the  Land  o'  Cakes, 
Gie  not  her  bairns  sic  deadly  paiks 

JNor  be  sae  rude, 
Wi'  firelock  or  Lochaber  axe. 

As  spill  their  bluid  !" 

On  all  occasions  when  hohday  licenses  some  riot  and 
irregularity,  a  skirmish  with  these  veterans  was  a  favourite 
recreation  with  the  rabble  of  Edinburgh.  These  pages 
may  perhaps  see  the  li^ht  when  many  have  in  fresh  recol- 
lection such  onsets  as  we  allude  to.  But  the  venerable 
corps,  with  whom  the  contention  was  held,  may  now  be 
considered  as  totally  extinct.    Of  late  the  gradual  diminu- 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  35 

lion  of  these  civic  soldiers  reminds  one  of  the  abatement 
of  King  Lear's  hundred  knights.  The  edicts  of  each 
set  of  succeeding  magistrates  have,  like  those  of  Goneril 
and  Regan,  diminished  this  venerable  band  with  the  sim- 
ilar question,  "  What  need  we  five-and-twenty  *? — ten  "? — 
or  five  ?"  And  it  is  now  nearly  come  to,  "  What  need 
one  '?"  A  spectre  may  indeed  here  and  there  still  be  seen 
of  an  old  grey-headed  and  grey-bearded  Highlander,  with 
war-worn  features,  but  bent  double  by  age  ;  dressed  in  an 
old-fashioned  cocked  hat,  bound  with  white  tape  iiistead 
of  silver  lace  ;  and  in  coat,  waistcoat,  and  breeches  of  a 
muddy-coloured  red,  bearing  in  his  withered  hand  an  an- 
cient weapon,  called  a  Lochaber-axe,  a  long  pole,  nainely, 
with  an  axe  at  the  extremity,  and  a  hook  at  tlie  back  of 
the  hatchet.  Such  a  phantom  of  former  days  stiii  creeps, 
I  have  been  informed,  round  the  statue  of  Charles  the 
Second,  in  the  Parhament-Square,  as  if  the  image  of  a 
Stuart  were  the  last  refuge  for  any  memorial  of  our  an- 
cient manners  ;  and  one  or  two  others  are  supposed  to 
glide  around  the  door  of  the  guard-house  assigned  to  them 
at  the  Luckenbooths,  when  their  ancient  refuge  in  the 
High-street  was  laid  lovv^.  But  the  fate  of  maauscripts 
bequeathed  to  friends  and  executors  is  so  uncertain,  that 
the  narrative  containing  these  frail  memorials  of  the  old 
Town-Guard  of  Edrnburgh,  who,  with  their  grim  and 
vahant  corporal,  John  Dhu,  (the  fiercest  looking  fellow  I 
ever  saw,)  were,  in  my  boyhood,  the  alternate  terror  and 
derision  of  the  petulant  brood  of  the  High  School,  may 
perhaps  only  come  to  light  when  all  memory  of  the  insti- 
tution has  faded  aw;ay,.and  then  serve  as  an  illustration  of 
Kay's  caricatures,  who  has  preserved  the  features  of  some 
of  their  heroes.  In  the  preceding  generation,  when  there 
was  a  perpetual  alarm  for  the  plots  and  activity  of  the 
Jacobites,  some  pains  was  taken  by  the  magistrates  of 
Edinburgh  to  keep  this  corps,  though  composed  always  of 
such  materials  as  we  have  noticed,  in  a  more  effective 
state  than  was  afterwards  judged  necessary,  when  their 
most  dangerous  service  wab  to  skirmish  with  the  rabble  on 
the  King's  birth-day.     Tney  were,  therefore,  more  the 


36  TAIES    OF   MY    X  AND  LORD. 

objects  of  hatred,  and  less  that  of  scorn,  than  they  were 
afterwards  accounted. 

To  Captain  Joim  Porteous  the  honour  of  his  command 
and  of  his  corps  seems  to  have  been  a  matter  of  high  in- 
terest and  importance.  He  was  exceedingly  incensed 
against  Wilson  for  the  affront  which  he  construed  him  to 
have  put  upon  his  soldiers,  in  the  effort  he  made  for  the 
hberation  of  his  companion,  and  expressed  himself  most 
ardently  on  the  topic.  He  was  no  less  indig/iant  at  the 
report,  that  there  was  an  intention  to  rescue  Wilson  him- 
self from  the  gallows,  and  uttered  many  threats  and  im- 
precations upon  that  subject,  which  were  afterwards  re- 
membered to  his  disadvantage.  In  fact,  if  a  good  deal  of 
determination  and  promptitude  rendered  Porteous,  in  one 
respect,  fit  to  command  guards  designed  to  suppress  pop- 
ular commotion,  he  seems,  on  the  other,  to  have  been  dis- 
qualified for  a  charge  so  delicate,  by  a  hot  and  surly  tem- 
per, always  too  ready  to  come  to  blows  and  violence  ;  a 
character  void  of  principle  ;  and  a  disposition  to  regard 
the  rabble,  who  seldom  failed  to  regale  him  and  his  soldiers 
with  some  marks  of  their  displeasure,  as  declared  enemies, 
upon  whom  it  was  natural  and  justifiable  that  he  should 
seek  opportunities  of  vengeance.  Being,  however,  the 
most  active  and  trust-worthy  among  the  captains  of  the 
City  Guard,  he  was  the  person  to  whom  the  magistrates 
entrusted  the  command  of  the  soldiers  appointed  to  keep 
the  peace  at  the  time  of  Wilson's  execution.  He  was 
ordered  to  guard  the  gallows  and  scaffold,  with  about 
eighty  men,  all  the  disposable  force  that  could  be  spared 
for  that  duty. 

But  the  magistrates  took  farther  precautions,  which  af- 
fected Porteous's  pride  very  deeply.  They  requested 
the  assistance  of  part  of  a  regular  infantry  regiment,  not 
to  attend  upon  the  execution,  but  to  remain  drawn  up 
upon  the  principal  street  of  the  city,  during  the  time  that 
it  went  forward,  in  order  to  intimidate  the  multitude,  in 
case  they  should  be  disposed  to  be  unruly,  with  a  display 
of  force  which  could  not  be  resisted  without  desperation. 
It  may  sound  ridiculous  in  our  ears,  considering  the  fallen 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-lOTHIAX.  37 

State  of  this  ancient  civic  corps,  that  its  officer  should 
have  felt  punctiliously  jealous  of  its  honour.  Yet  so  it 
was.  Captain  Porteous  resented,  as  an  indignity,  the 
fetching  the  Welsh  Fusileers  within  the  city,  and  into  a 
street  where  no  drums  but  his  own  were  allowed  to  be 
struck,  without  the  special  command  or  permission  of  the 
magistrates.  As  he  could  not  show  his  ill  humour  to  his 
patrons  the  magistrates,  it  increased  his  indignation  and 
his  desire  to  be  revenged  on  the  unfortunate  criminal  Wil- 
son, and  all  who  favoured  him.  These  internal  emotions 
of  jealousy  and  rage  wrought  a  change  on  the  man's  mien 
and  bearing,  visible  to  all  who  saw  him  on  the  fatal  morn- 
ing when  Wilson  was  appointed  to  suffer.  Porteous's 
ordinary  appearance  was  rather  favourable.  He  was 
about  the  middle  size,  stout,  and  well  made,  having  a 
military  air,  and  yet  rather  a  gentle  and  mild  countenance. 
His  complexion  was  brown,  his  face  somewhat  fretted 
with  the  scars  of  the  small-pox,  his  eyes  rather  languid 
than  keen  or  fierce.  On  the  present  occasion,  however, 
it  seemed  to  those  who  saw  him  as  if  he  were  agitated  by 
some  evil  demon.  His  step  was  irregular,  his  voice  hol- 
low and  broken,  his  countenance  pale,  his  eyes  staring  and 
wild,  his  speech  imperfect  and  confused,  and  his  whole 
appearance  so  disordered,  that  many  remarked  he  seem- 
ed to  be  fey,  a  Scottish  expression,  meaning  the  state  of 
those  who  are  driven  on  to  their  impending  fate  by  the 
strong  impulse  of  some  irresistible  necessity. 

One  part  of  his  conduct  was  truly  diabolical,  if,  indeed, 
it  has  not  been  exaggerated  by  the  general  prejudice  en- 
tertained against  his  memory.  When  AVilson,  the  unhap- 
py criminal,  was  delivered  to  him  by  the  keeper  of  the 
prison,  in  order  that  he  might  be  conducted  to  the  place 
of  execution,  Porteous,  not  satisfied  with  the  usual  pre- 
cautions to  prevent  escape,  ordered  him  to  be  manacled. 
This  might  be  justifiable  from  the  character  and  bodily 
strength  of  the  malefactor,  as  well  as  from  the  apprehen- 
sions so  generally  entertained  of  an  expected  rescue.  But 
the  hand-cuffs  which  were  produced  being  found  too  small 

4         VOL.    I. 


38  TALES    OF   MY    LANDLORD. 

for  the  wrists  of  a  man  so  big-boned  as  Wilson,  Porteous 
proceeded  with  his  own  hands,  and  by  great  exertion  of 
strength,  to  force  them  till  they  clasped  together,  to  the 
exquisite  torture  of  the  unhappy  criminal.  Wilson  re- 
monstrated against  such  barbarous  usage,  declaring  that 
the  pain  distracted  his  thoughts  from  the  subjects  of  med- 
itation proper  to  his  unhappy  condition. 

"  It  signifies  little,"  replied  Captain  Porteous  ;  ''  your 
pain  will  be  soon  at  an  end." 

"  Your  cruelty  is  great,"  answered  the  sufferer. 
"  You  know  not  how  soon  you  yourself  may  have  occa- 
sion to  ask  the  mercy,  which  you  are  now  refusing  to  a 
fellow  creature.     May  God  forgive  you." 

These  words,  long  afterwards  quoted  and  remembered, 
were  all  that  passed  between  Porteous  and  his  prisoner  ; 
but  as  they  took  air,  and  became  known  to  the  people, 
they  greatly  increased  the  popular  compassion  for  Wilson, 
and  excited  a  proportionate  degree  of  indignation  against 
Porteous  ;  against  whom,  as  strict,  and  even  violent  in 
the  discharge  of  his  unpopular  office,  tlie  common  people 
had  some  real,  and  many  imaginary  causes  of  com];laint. 

When  the  painful  procession  was  completed,  and  Wil- 
son, with  the  escort,  had  arrived  at  the  scaffold  in  the 
Grass-market,  there  appeared  no  signs  of  that  attempt  to 
rescue  him  which  had  occasioned  such  precautions.  The 
muhitude,  in  general,  looked  on  with  deeper  interest  than 
at  ordinary  executions  ;  and  there  might  be  seen,  on  the 
countenances  of  many,  a  stern  and  indignant  expression, 
like  that  with  which  the  ancient  Cameronians  might  be 
supposed  to  witness  the  execution  of  their  brethren,  who 
glorified  the  covenant  upon  occasions  something  similar, 
and  at  the  same  spot.  But  there  was  no  attempt  at  violence. 
Wilson  himself  seemed  disposed  to  hasten  over  the  space 
that  divided  time  from  eternity.  The  devotions  proper 
and  usual  on  such  occasions  were  no  sooner  finished  than 
he  submitted  to  his  fate,  and  the  sentence  of  the  law  was 
executed. 

He  had  been  suspended  on  the  gibbet  so  long  as  to  be 
totally  deprived  of  life,  when  at  once,  as  if  occasioned  by 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAX.  39 

some  newly-received  impulse,  there  arose  a  tumult  among 
the  multitude.  Many  stones  were  thrown  at  Porteous 
and  his  guards  ;  some  mischief  was  done  ;  and  the  mob 
continued  to  press  forward  with  whoops,  shrieks,  howls, 
and  exclamations.  A  young  fellow,  with  a  sailor's  cap 
slouched  over  his  face,  sprung  on  the  scaffold,  and  cut 
the  rope  by  which  the  criminal  w^as  suspended.  Others 
approached  to  carry  off  the  body,  either  to  secure  it  for 
a  decent  grave,  or  to  try,  perhaps,  some  means  of  resus- 
citation. Captain  Porteous  was  wrought,  by  this  appear- 
ance of  insurrection  against  his  authority,  into  a  rage  so 
headlong  as  made  him  forget,  that,  the  sentence  having 
been  fully  executed,  it  was  his  duty  not  to  engage  in  hos- 
tilities with  the  misguided  multitude,  but  to  draw  off  his 
men  as  fast  as  possible.  He  sprung  from  the  scaffold, 
snatched  a  musket  from  one  of  his  soldiers,  commanded 
the  party  to  give  fire,  and,  as  several  eye-witnesses  con- 
curred in  swearing,  set  them  the  example,  by  discharging 
his  piece,  and  shooting  a  man  dead  on  the  spot.  Several 
soldiers  obeyed  his  command,  or  followed  his  example  ; 
six  or  seven  people  were  slain,  and  a  great  many  were 
hurt  and  wounded. 

After  this  act  of  violence,  the  Captain  proceeded  to 
withdraw  his  men  towards  their  guard-house  in  the  High- 
Street.  The  mob  were  not  so  much  intimidated  as  in- 
censed by  what  had  been  done.  They  pursued  the  sol- 
diers with  execrations,  accompanied  by  v^olhes  of  stones. 
As  they  pressed  on  them,  the  rear-most  soldiers  turned, 
and  again  fired  with  fatal  aim  and  execution.  It  is  not 
accurately  known  whether  Porteous  commanded  this  se- 
cond act  of  violence  ;  but  of  course  the  odium  of  the 
whole  transactions  of  the  fatal  day  attached  to  him,  and 
to  him  alone.  He  arrived  at  the  guard-house,  dismissed 
his  soldiers,  and  went  to  make  his  report  to  the  magis- 
trates concerning  the  unfortunate  events  of  the  day. 

Apparently  by  this  time  Captain  Porteous  had  begun 
to  doubt  the  propriety  of  his  own  conduct,  and  the  re- 
ception he  met  with  from  the  magistrates  was  such  as  to 
make  him  still  more  anxious  to  gloss  it  over.     He  denied 


40  TALES    OF    MY   LANDLORD. 

that  he  had  given  orders  to  fire ;  he  denied  he  had  fired 
with  his  own  hand  ;  he  even  produced  the  fusee,  which 
he  carried  as  an  officer,  for  examination ;  it  was  found 
still  loaded.  Of  three  cartridges  which  he  was  seen  to 
put  in  his  pouch  that  morning,  two  were  still  there  ; 
a  white  handkerchief  was  thrust  into  the  muzzle  of  the 
piece,  and  returned  unsoiled  or  blackened.  To  this  it 
was  answered,  that  he  had  not  used  his  own  piece,  but 
had  been  seen  to  take  one  from  a  soldier.  Among  the 
many  who  had  been  killed  and  wounded  by  the  unhappy 
fire,  there  were  several  of  better  rank ;  for  even  the  hu- 
manity of  such  soldiers  as  fired  over  the  heads  of  the 
mere  rabble  around  the  scaffold,  proved  in  some  instances 
fatal  to  persons  who  were  stationed  in  windows,  or  ob- 
served the  melancholy  scene  from  a  distance.  The  voice 
of  public  indignation  was  loud  and  general  ;  and,  ere 
men's  temper  had  time  to  cool,  the  trial  of  Captain  Por- 
teous  took  place  before  the  High  Court  of  Justiciary. 
After  a  long  and  patient  hearing,  the  jury  had  the  diffi- 
cult duty  of  balancing  the  positive  evidence  of  many 
persons,  and  those  of  respectability,  who  deposed  abso- 
lutely to  the  prisoner's  commanding  his  soldiers  to  fire, 
and  himself  firing  his  piece,  of  which  some  swore  that 
they  saw  the  smoke  and  flash,  and  beheld  a  man  drop  at 
whom  it  was  pointed,  with  the  negative  testimony  of 
others,  who,  though  well  stationed  for  seeing  what  had 
passed,  neither  heard  Porteous  give  orders  to  fire,  nor 
saw  him  fire  himself;  but,  on  the  contrary,  averred  that 
the  first  shot  was  fired  by  a  soldier  who  stood  close  by 
him.  A  great  part  of  his  defence  was  also  founded  on 
the  turbulence  of  the  mob,  which  witnesses,  according  to 
their  feelings,  their  predilections,  and  their  opportunities 
of  observation,  represented  differently  ;  some  describing 
as  a  formidable  riot,  what  others  represented  as  a  trifling 
disturbance,  such  as  always  used  to  take  place  on  the  like 
occasions,  when  the  executioner  of  the  law,  and  the  men 
commissioned  to  protect  him  in  his  task,  were  generally 
exposed  to  some  indignities.  The  verdict  of  the  jury 
sufficiently  shows  how  the  evidence  preponderated  in 


THE    HEART    OF  MID-LOTHIAN.  41 

their  minds.  It  declared  that  John  Porteous  fired  a  gun 
among  the  people  assembled  at  the  execution  ;  that  he 
gave  orders  to  his  soldiers  to  fire,  by  which  many  persons 
were  killed  and  wounded  ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  that 
the  prisoner  and  his  guard  had  been  wounded  and  beaten, 
by  stones  thrown  at  them  by  the  multitude.  Upon  this 
verdict,  the  Lords  of  Justiciary  passed  sentence  of  death 
against  Captain  John  Porteous,  adjudging  him,  in  the 
common  form,  to  be  hanged  on  a  gibbet  at  the  common 
place  of  execution,  on  Wednesday,  8th  September,  1736, 
and  all  his  moveable  property  to  be  forfeited  to  the  King's 
use,  according  to  the  Scottish  law  in  cases  of  wilful 
murder. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"  The  hour's  comC;  but  not  the  man.'' 

Kelpie. 

On  the  day  when  the  unhappy  Porteous  was  expected 
to  suffer  the  sentence  of  the  law,  the  place  of  execution, 
extensive  as  it  is,  was  crowded  almost  to  suffocation. 
There  was  not  a  window  in  all  the  lofty  tenements  around 
it,  or  in  the  steep  and  crooked  street  called  the  Bow,  by 
which  the  fatal  procession  was  to  descend  from  the  High- 
Street,  which  was  not  absolutely  filled  with  spectators. 
The  uncommon  height  and  antique  appearance  of  these 
houses,  some  of  which  were  formerly  the  property  of  the 
Knights  Templars,  and  the  Knights  of  St.  John,  and  still 
exhibit  on  their  fronts  and  gables  the  iron  cross  of  these 
orders,  gave  additional  effect  to  a  scene  in  itself  so  strik- 
ing. The  area  of  the  Grass-market  resembled  a  huge 
dark  lake  or  sea  of  human  heads,  in  the  centre  of  which 
arose  the  fatal  tree,  tall,  black,  and  ominous,  from  which 
dangled  the  deadly  halter.     Every  object  takes  interest 

4*       VOL.    I. 


^42 


TALES    OF   MY   XANDLORD. 


from  its  uses  and  associations,  and  the  erect  beam  and 
empty  noose,  things  so  simple  in  themselves,  became  ob- 
jects, on  such  an  occasion,  of  terror  and  of  solemn  in- 
terest. 

Amid  so  numerous  an  assembly  there  was  scarce  a 
word  spoken,  save  in  whispers.  The  thirst  of  vengeance 
was  in  some  degree  allayed  by  its  supposed  certairrty  ; 
and  even  the  populace,  with  deeper  feeling  than  they  are 
wont  to  entertain,  suppressed  all  clamorous  exultation,  and 
prepared  to  enjoy  the  scene  of  retaliation  in  triumph,  si- 
lent and  decent,  though  stern  and  relentless.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  depth  of  their  hatred  to  the  unfortunate  criminal 
despised  to  display  itself  in  anything  resembling  the  more 
noisy  current  of  their  ordinary  feelings.  Had  a  stranger 
consulted  only  the  evidence  of  his  ears,  he  might  have 
supposed  that  so  vast  a  multitude  were  assembled  for 
some  purpose  which  affected  them  with  the  deepest  sor- 
row, and  stilled  those  noises  which,  upon  all  ordinary  oc- 
casions, arise  from  such  a  concourse  ;  but  if  he  gazed 
upon  their  faces,  he  would  have  been  instantly  undeceiv- 
ed. The  compressed  lip,  the  bent  brow,  the  stern  and 
flashing  eye  of  almost  every  one  on  whom  he  gazed,  con- 
veyed the  expression  of  men  come  to  glut  their  sight  with 
triumphant  revenge.  It  is  probable  that  the  appearance 
of  the  criminal  might  have  somewhat  changed  the  temper 
of  the  populace  in  his  favour,  and  that  they  might  in  the 
moment  of  death  have  forgiven  the  man  against  whom 
their  resentment  had  been  so  fiercely  heated.  It  had, 
however,  been  destined,  that  the  mutability  of  their  sen- 
timents was  not  to  be  exposed  to  this  trial. 

The  usual  hour  for  producing  the  criminal  had  been 
past  for  many  minutes,  yet  the  spectators  observed  no 
symptom  of  his  appearance.  "  Would  they  venture  to 
defraud  public  justice  9"  was  the  question  which  men 
began  anxiously  to  ask  at  each  other.  The  first  answer 
in  every  case  was  bold  and  positive.  "  They  dare  not." 
But  when  the  point  was  farther  canvassed,  other  opinions 
were  entertained,  and  various  causes  of  doubt  were  sug- 
gested.      Porteous  had  been  a  favourite   officer  of  the 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAX.  43 

magistracy  of  the  city,  a  numerous  and  fluctuating 
body,  that  requires  for  its  support  a  degree  of  energy  in 
its  functionaries,  which  the  individuals  who  compose 
it  cannot  at  all  times  ahke  be  supposed  to  possess  in 
their  own  persons.  It  was  remembered,  that  in  the  In- 
formation for  Porteous,  (the  paper,  namely,  in  which  his 
case  was  stated  to  the  judges  of  the  criminal  court,)  he 
had  been  described  by  his  counsel  as  the  person  on  whom 
the  magistrates  chiefly  relied  in  all  emergencies  of  un- 
common difiiculty.  It  was  argued,  too,  that  his  conduct, 
upon  the  unhappy  occasion  of  Wilson's  execution  was 
capable  of  being  attributed  to  an  imprudent  excess  of 
zeal  in  the  execution  of  his  duty,  a  motive  for  which  those 
under  whose  authority  he  acted  might  be  supposed  to 
have  great  sympathy.  And  as  these  considerations  might 
move  the  magistrates  to  make  a  favourable  representation 
of  Porteous's  case,  there  were  not  wanting  others  in  the 
higher  departments  of  government,  which  would  make 
such  suggestions  favourably  listened  to. 

The  mob  of  Edinburgh,  when  thoroughly  excited,  had 
been  at  all  times  one  of  the  fiercest  which  could  be  found 
in  Europe  ;  and  of  late  years  they  had  lisen  repeatedly 
against  the  government,  and  sometimes  not  without  suc- 
cess. They  were  conscious,  therefore,  that  they  were  no 
favourites  with  the  rulers  of  the  period,  and  that,  if  Cap- 
tain Porteous's  violence  was  not  altogether  regarded  as 
good  service,  it  might  certainly  be  thought,  that  to  visit  it 
with  a  capital  punishment  would  render  it  both  delicate  and 
dangerous  for  future  oflicers,  in  the  same  circumstances, 
to  act  with  eflect  in  repressing  tumults.  There  is  also  a 
natural  feeling  on  the  part  of  all  members  of  govern- 
ment, for  the  general  maintenance  of  authority  ;  and  it 
seemed  not  unhkely,  that  what  to  the  relatives  of  the  suf- 
ferers appeared  a  wanton  and  unprovoked  massacre, 
should  be  otherwise  viewed  in  the  cabinet  of  St.  James's. 
It  might  be  there  supposed,  that,  upon  the  whole  matter, 
Captain  Porteous  was  in  the  exercise  of  a  trust  delegated 
to  him  by  the  lawful  civil  authority  :  that  he  had  been 
assaulted  by  the  populace,  and  several  of  his  men  hurt  ; 


44  TALES    OF    MT    LANDLORD. 

and  that,  in  finally  repelling  force  by  force,  his  conduct 
could  be  fairly  imputed  to  no  other  motive  than  self-de- 
fence in  the  discharge  of  his  duty. 

These  considerations,  of  themselves  very  powerful,  in- 
duced the  spectators  to  apprehend  the  possibihty  of  a  re- 
prieve ;  and  to  the  various  causes  which  might  interest 
the  rulers  in  his  favour,  the  lower  part  of  the  rabble  added 
one  which  was  peculiarly  well  adapted  to  their  compre- 
hension. It  was  averred,  in  order  to  increase  the  odium 
against  Porteous,  that  while  he  repressed  with  the  utmost 
severity  the  sHghtest  excesses  of  the  poor,  he  not  only 
overlooked  the  Hcense  of  the  young  nobles  and  gentry, 
but  was  very  wilhng  to  lend  them  the  countenance  of  his 
official  authority,  in  execution  of  such  loose  pranks  as  it 
was  chiefly  his  duty  to  have  restrained.  This  suspicion, 
which  was  perhaps  much  exaggerated,  made  a  deep  im- 
pression on  the  minds  of  the  populace  ;  and  when  seve- 
ral of  the  higher  rank  joined  in  a  petition,  recommending 
Porteous  to  the  mercy  of  the  crown,  it  was  generally 
supposed  he  owed  their  favour  not  to  any  conviction  of 
the  hardship  of  his  case,  but  to  the  fear  of  losing  a  conven- 
ient accomplice  in  their  debaucheries.  It  is  scarce  neces- 
sary to  say  how  much  this  suspicion  augmented  the  peo- 
ple's detestation  of  this  obnoxious  criminal,  as  well  as  their 
fear  of  his  escaping  the  sentence  pronounced  against  him. 

While  these  arguments  were  stated  and  repHed  to,  and 
canvassed  and  supported,  the  hitherto  silent  expectation 
of  the  people  became  changed  into  that  deep  and  agitat- 
ing murmur  which  is  sent  forth  by  the  ocean  before  the 
tempest  begins  to  howl.  The  crowded  populace,  as  if 
the  motions  had  corresponded  with  the  unsettled  state  of 
their  minds,  fluctuated  to  and  fro  without  any  visible  cause 
of  impulse,  like  the  agitation  of  the  waters,  called  by 
sailors  the  ground-swell.  The  news,  which  the  magis- 
trates had  almost  hesitated  to  communicate  to  them,  were 
at  length  announced,  and  spread  among  the  spectators 
with  a  rapidity  like  lightning.  A  reprieve  from  the  Sec- 
retary of  State's  office,  under  the  hand  of  his  Grace  the 
Duke  of  Newcastle,  had  arrived,  intimating  the  pleasure 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-tOTHIAN.  45 

of  Queen  Caroline,  (Regent  of  the  kingdom  during  the 
absence  of  George  II.  on  the  continent,)  that  the  execu- 
tion of  the  sentence  of  death  pronounced  against  John 
Porteous,  late  Captain-lieutenant  of  the  City  Guard  of 
Edinburgh,  present  prisoner  in  the  tolbooth  of  that  city, 
be  respited  for  six  weeks  from  the  time  appointed  for  his 
execution. 

The  assembled  spectators  of  almost  all  degrees,  whose 
minds  had  been  wound  up  to  the  pitch  which  we  have 
d'escribed,  uttered  a  groan,  or  rather  a  roar  of  indignation 
and  disappointed  revenge,  similar  to  that  of  a  tyger  from 
which  his  meal  has  been  rent  by  his  keeper  when  he  was 
just  about  to  devour  it.  This  fierce  exclamation  seemed 
to  forebode  some  immediate  explosion  of  popular  resent- 
ment, and,  in  fact,  such  had  been  expected  by  the  mag- 
istrates, and  the  necessary  measures  had  been  taken  to 
repress  it.  But  the  shout  w^as  not  repeated,  nor  did  any 
sudden  tumult  ensue,  such  as  it  seemed  to  announce. 
The  populace  appeared  to  be  ashamed  of  having  express- 
ed their  disappointment  in  a  vain  clamour,  and  the  sound 
changed,  not  into  the  silence  which  had  preceded  the 
arrival  of  these  stunning  news,  but  into  stifled  mutterings, 
which  each  group  maintained  among  themselves,  and 
which  were  blended  into  one  deep  and  hoarse  murmur 
which  floated  above  the  assembly.  Yet  still,  though  all 
expectation  of  the  execution  was  over,  the  mob  remain- 
ed assembled,  stationary  as  it  were,  through  very  resent- 
ment, gazing  on  the  preparations  for  death,  which  had 
now  been  made  in  vain,  and  stimulating  their  feelings,  by 
recalling  the  various  claims  which  Wilson  might  have  had 
on  royal  mercy,  from  the  mistaken  motives  on  which  he 
acted,  as  well  as  from  the  generosity  he  had  displayed 
towards  his  accomplice.  "  This  man,^'  they  said, — "  the 
brave,  the  resolute,  the  generous,  was  executed  to  death 
without  mercy  for  stealing  a  purse  of  gold,  which  in  some 
sense  he  might  consider  as  a  fair  reprisal ;  while  the  pro- 
fligate satellite,  who  took  advantage  of  a  trifling  tumult, 
inseparable  from  such  occasions,  to  shed  the  blood  of 
twenty  of  his  fellow-citizens,  is  deemed  a  fitting  object 


46  TALES    OF    MY    lAWBLORD. 

for  the  exercise  of  the  royal  prerogative  of  mercy.  Is 
this  to  be  borne  "? — would  our  fathers  have  borne  it  9 
Are  not  we,  like  them,  Scotsmen  and  burghers  of  Edin- 
burgh V 

The  officers  of  justice  began  now  to  remove  the  scaf- 
fold, and  other  preparations  which  had  been  made  for 
the  execution,  in  hopes,  by  doing  so,  to  accelerate  the 
dispersion  of  the  multitude.  The  measure  had  the  de- 
sired effect  ;  for  no  sooner  had  the  fatal  tree  been  unfix- 
ed from  the  large  stone  pedestal  or  socket  in  which  it 
was  secured,  and  sunk  slowly  down  upon  the  wain  in- 
tended to  remove  it  to  the  place  where  it  was  usually 
deposited,  than  the  populace,  after  giving  vent  to  their 
feelings  in  a  second  shout  of  rage  and  mortification,  be- 
gan slowly  to  disperse  to  their  usual  abodes  and  occupa- 
tions. 

The  windows  were  in  hke  manner  gradually  deserted, 
and  groups  of  the  more  decent  class  of  citizens  formed 
themselves,  as  if  waiting  to  return  homewards  when  the 
streets  should  be  cleared  of  the  rabble.  Contrary  to  what 
is  frequently  the  case,  this  description  of  persons  agreed 
in  general  with  the  sentiments  of  their  inferiors,  and  con- 
sidered the  cause  as  common  to  all  ranks.  Indeed,  as 
we  have  already  noticed,  it  was  by  no^ineans  amongst  the 
lowest  class  of  spectators,  or  those  most  likely  to  be 
engaged  in  the  riot  at  Wilson's  execution,  that  the  fatal 
fire  of  Porteous's  soldiers  had  taken  effect.  Several 
persons  were  killed  who  were  looking  out  at  windows  at 
the  scene,  who  could  not  of  course  belong  to  the  rioters, 
and  were  persons  of  decent  rank  and  condition.  The 
burghers,  therefore,  resenting  the  loss  which  had  fallen 
on  their  own  body,  and  proud  and  tenacious  of  their 
rights,  as  the  citizens  of  Edinburgh  have  at  all  times  been, 
w^re  greatly  exasperated  at  the  unexpected  respite  of 
Captain  Porteous. 

It  was  noticed  at  the  time,  and  afterwards  more  partic- 
ularly remembered,  that,  while  the  mob  were  in  the  act 
of  dispersing,  several  individuals  were  seen  busily  passing 
from  one  place  and  one  group  of  people  to  another,  re- 


THE    HEART   OF    MID-tOTHIAN.  47 

maining  long  with  none,  but  whispering  for  a  little  time 
with  those  who  appeared  to  be  declaiming  most  violently 
against  the  conduct  of  government.  These  active  agents 
had  the  appearance  of  men  from  the  country,  and  were 
generally  supposed  to  be  old  friends  and  confederates  of 
Wilson,  whose  minds  were  of  course  highly  excited  against 
Porteous. 

If,  however,  it  was  the  intention  of  these  men  to  stir 
the  multitude  to  any  sudden  act  of  mutiny,  it  seemed 
for  the  time  to  be  fruitless.  The  rabble,  as  well  as  the 
more  decent  part  of  the  assembly,  dispersed,  and  went 
home  peaceably  ;  and  it  was  only  by  observing  the  moody 
discontent  on  their  brows,  or  catching  the  tenor  of  the  con- 
versation they  held  with  each  other,  that  a  stranger  could 
estimate  the  state  of  their  minds.  We  will  give  the  read- 
er this  advantage,  by  associating  ourselves  with  one  of 
the  numerous  groups  who  were  painfully  ascending  the 
steep  decHvity  of  the  West  Bow,  to  return  to  their  dwel- 
lings in  the  Lawn-market. 

"  An  unco  thing  this,  Mrs.  Howden,"  said  old  Peter 
Plumdamas  to  his  neighbour  the  rouping-wife,  or  sales- 
woman, as  he  offered  her  his  arm  to  assist  her  in  the 
toilsome  ascent,  "  to  see  the  grit  folk  at  Lunnon  set  their 
face  against  law  and  gospel,  and  let  loose  sic  a  reprobate 
as  Porteous  upon  a  peaceable  town." 

"  And  to  think  o'  the  weary  walk  they  hae  gi'en  us," 
answered  Mrs.  Howden,  with  a  groan  ;  "  and  sic  a  com- 
fortable window  as  1  had  gotten,  too,  just  within  a  penny- 
stane-cast  of  the  scaffold — 1  could  hae  heard  every  word 
the  minister  said — and  to  pay  twalpennies  for  my  stand, 
and  a'  for  naething  !" 

"  I  am  judging,"  said  Mr.  Plumdamas,  "  that  this 
reprieve  wadna  stand  gude  in  the  auld  Scots  law,  when 
the  kingdom  was  a  kingdom." 

"  I  dinna  ken  muckle  about  the  law,"  answered  Mrs. 
Howden  ;  "  but  I  ken,  when  we  had  a  king,  and  a  chan- 
cellor, and  parHament-men  o'  our  ain,  we  could  aye  pee- 
ble  them  wi'  stanes  when  they  were  na  gnde  buirns — 
But  naebody's  nails  can  reach  the  length  o'  Lunnon." 


48  TALES    OF   MY  LANDLORD. 

"  Weary  on  Lunnon,  and  a'  that  e'er  came  out  o't  !'* 
said  Miss  Grizell  Damahoy,  an  ancient  seamstress  ; 
"  they  hae  ta'en  awa'  our  parliament,  and  they  hae  op- 
pressed our  trade.  Our  gentles  will  hardly  allow  that  a 
Scots  needle  can  sew  ruffles  on  a  sark,  or  lace  on  an 
owerlay." 

"  Ye  may  say  that,  Miss  Damahoy,  and  I  ken  o'  them 
that  hae  gotten  raisins  frae  Lunnon  by  forpits  at  ance," 
responded  Piumdamas  ;  "  and  then  sic  an  host  of  idle 
English  gaugers  and  excisemen  as  hae  come  down  to  vex 
and  torment  us,  that  an  honest  man  canna  fetch  sae 
muckle  as  a  bit  anker  o'  brandy  frae  Leith  to  the  Lawn- 
market,  but  he's  hke  to  be  rubbit  o'  the  very  gudes  he's 
bought  and  paid  for.  Weel,  I  winna  justify  Andrew 
Wilson  for  pitting  hands  on  what  wasna  his  ;  but  if  he 
took  lae  mair  than  his  ain,  there's  an  awful  diiference 
between  that  and  the  fact  that  this  man  stands  for." 

*'  If  ye  speak  about  the  law,"  said  Mrs.  Howden, 
"  here  comes  Mr.  Saddletree,  that  can  settle  it  as  weel 
as  ony  on  the  bench." 

The  party  she  mentioned,  a  grave  elderly  person,  with 
a  superb  periwig,  dressed  in  a  decent  suit  of  sad-colour- 
ed clothes,  came  up  as  she  spoke,  and  courteously  gave 
his  arm  to  Miss  Grizell  Damahoy. 

It  may  be  necessary  to  mention,  that  Mr.  Bartoline 
Saddletree  kept  an  excellent  and  highly-esteemed  shop 
for  harness,  saddles,  he.  &ic.  at  the  sign  of  the  Golden 
Nag,  at  the  head  of  Bess-Wynd.  His  genius,  however, 
(as  he  himself  and  most  of  his  neighbours  conceived,) 
lay  towards  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law,  and  he  fail- 
ed not  to  give  frequent  attendance  upon  the  pleadings 
and  arguments  of  the  lawyers  and  judges  in  the  neigh- 
bouring square,  where,  to  say  the  truth,  he  was  oftener  to 
be  found  than  would  have  consisted  with  his  own  emolu- 
ment ;  but  that  his  wife,  an  active  pains-taking  person, 
could,  in  his  absence,  make  an  admirable  shift  to  please 
the  customers  and  scold  t!  o  journeymen.  This  good 
la<iy  was  in  the  habit  of  letting  her  husband  take  his 
way,  and  go  on  improving  his  stock  of  legal  knowledge 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  49 

without  interruption,  but,  as  if  in  requital,  she  insisted 
upon  having  her  own  will  in  the  domestic  and  commer- 
cial departments  which  he  abandoned  to  her.  Now,  as 
Bartoline  Saddletree  had  a  considerable  gift  of  words, 
which  he  mistook  for  eloquence,  and  conferred  more  lib- 
erally upon  the  society  in  which  he  hved  than  was  at  all 
times  gracious  and  acceptable,  there  went  forth  a  saymg, 
with  which  wags  used  sometimes  to  interrupt  his  rhetoric, 
thai,  as  he  had  a  golden  nag  at  his  door,  so  he  had  a  grey 
mare  in  his  shop.  This  reproach  induced  Mr.  Saddle- 
tree, upon  all  occasions,  to  assume  rather  a  haughty  and 
stately  tone  towards  his  good  woman  ;  a  circumstance  by 
which  she  seemed  very  little  affected,  unless  when  he  at- 
tempted to  exercise  any  real  authority,  when  she  never 
failed  to  fly  into  open  rebellion.  But  such  extremes 
Bartoline  seldom  provoked  ;  for,  Hke  the  gentle  King 
Jamie,  he  was  fonder  of  talking  of  authority  than  really 
exercising  it.  This  turn  of  mind  was,  on  the  whole, 
lucky  for  him  ;  since  his  substance  was  increased  without 
any  trouble  on  his  part,  or  any  interruption  of  his  favour- 
ite studies. 

This  word  in  explanation  has  been  thrown  in  to  the 
reader,  while  Saddletree  was  laying  down,  with  great  pre- 
cision, the  law  upon  Porteous's  case,  by  which  he  arrived 
at  this  conclusion,  that,  if  Porteous  had  fired  five  min- 
utes sooner,  before  Wilson  was  cut  down,  he  would  have 
been  versaas  in  licito,  engaged,  that  is,  in  a  lawful  act, 
and  only  liable  to  be  punished  propter  excessum,  or  for 
lack  of  discretion,  which  might  have  mitigated  the  pun- 
ishment to  prena  ordinaria. 

"  Discretion  !"  echoed  Mrs.  Howden,  on  whom  it  may 
well  be  supposed  the  fineness  of  this  distinction  was  en- 
tirely thrown  away, — "  whan  had  Jock  Porteous  either 
grace,  discretion,  or  gude  manners  9 — I  mind  when  his 
father" 

"  But,  Mrs.  Howden,"  said  Saddletree 

"  And  I,"  said  IMiss  Damahoy,  "  mind  when  his 
mother" 

5       VOL.    I. 


50  TALES    OF   MT    LANDLORD . 

"  Miss   Damahoy,"    entreated   the   interrupted    ora- 


tor- 


*'  And  I,"  said  Plumdamas,  *'  mind  when  his  wife" 

"  Mr.  Plumdamas — Mrs.  Howden — Miss  Damahoy," 
again  implored  the  orator, — "  mind  the  distinction,  as 
Counsellor  Crossmyloof  says, — '  I,'  says  he,  '  take  a  dis- 
tinction.' Now,  the  body  of  the  criminal  being  cut  down, 
and  the  execution  ended,  Porteous  was  no  longer  official ; 
the  act  which  he  came  to  protect  and  guard  being  done 
and  ended,  he  was  no  better  than  cuivis  ex  populo." 

"  Q^uivis — quivis,  Mr.  Saddletree,  craving  your  par- 
don," said  (with  a  prolonged  emphasis  on  the  first  sylla- 
ble) Mr.  Butler,  the  deputy  schoolmaster  of  a  parish  near 
Edinburgh,  who  at  that  moment  came  up  behind  them  as 
the  false  Latin  was  uttered. 

"  What  signifies  interrupting  me,  Mr.  Butler  9 — but  1 
am  glad  to  see  you  notwithstanding — I  speak,  after  Coun- 
sellor Crossmyloof,  and  he  said  cuivis^ 

"  If  Counsellor  Crossmyloof  used  the  dative  for  the 
nominative,  1  would  have  crossed  his  loof  with  a  tight 
leathern  strap,  Mr.  Saddletree  ;  there  is  not  a  boy  on 
the  booby  form  but  should  have  been  scourged  for  such 
a  solecism  in  grammar." 

"  I  speak  Latin  like  a  lawyer,  Mr.  Butler,  and  not  like 
a  schoolmaster,"  retorted  Saddletree. 

"  Scarce  like  a  school-boy,  1  think,"  rejoined  Butler. 

"  It  matters  little,"  said  Bartoline  ;  "  all  1  mean  to 
say  is,  that  Porteous  has  become  liable  to  the  pana  extra 
ordiiiem,  or  capital  punishment ;  which  is  to  say,  in  plain 
Scotch,  the  gallows,  simply  because  he  did  not  fire  when 
he  was  in  office,  but  waited  till  the  body  was  cut  down, 
the  execution  vvhilk  he  had  in  charge  to  guard  implement- 
ed, and  he  himself  exonered  of  the  public  trust  imposed 
on  him." 

"  But,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  said  Plumdamas,  *'  do  ye 
really  think  John  Porteous's  case  wad  hae  been  better  if 
he  had  begun  firing  before  ony  stanes  were  flung  at  a'  ?" 

"  Indeed  do  I,  neighbour  Plumdamas,"  replied  Bar- 
toline, confidently,  "  he  being  then  in  point  of  trust  and 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-IOTHIAX. 


51 


in  point  of  power,  the  execution  being  but  inchoate,  or,  at 
least,  not  implemented,  or  finally  ended  ;  but  after  Wil- 
son was  cut  down,  it  was  a'  ower — he  was  clean  exaucto- 
rate,  and  had  nae  mair  ado  but  to  get  awa'  wi'  his  guard 
up  this  West  Bow  as  fast  as  if  there  had  been  a  caption 
after  him — And  this  is  law,  for  I  heard  it  laid  down  by 
Lord  Vincovincentem." 

"  Vincovincentem  '? — Is  he  a  lord  of  state,  or  a  lord 
of  seat'?"  inquired  Mrs.  Howden. 

"  A  lord  of  seat — a  lord  of  session. — I  fash  mysel 
little  wi'  lords  of  state  ;  they  vex  me  wi'  a  wheen  idle 
questions  about  their  saddles,  and  curpels,  and  holsters, 
and  horse-furniture,  and  what  they'll  cost,  and  whan  they'll 
be  ready — a  wheen  gallopping  geese — my  wife  may  serve 
the  like  o'  them." 

"  And  so  might  she,  in  her  day,  hae  served  the  best 
lord  in  the  land,  for  as  httle  as  ye  think  o'  her,  Mr.  Sad- 
dletree," said  Mrs.  Howden,  somewhat  indignant  at  the 
contemptuous  way  in  which  her  gossip  was  mentioned  ; 
"  when  she  and  I  were  twa  gilpies,  we  little  thought  to 
hae  shten  doun  wi'  the  like  o'  my  auld  Davie  Howden,  or 
you  either,  Mr.  Saddletree." 

While  Saddletree,  who  was  not  bright  at  a  reply,  was 
cudgelling  his  brains  for  an  answer  to  this  home-thrust, 
Miss'Damahoy  broke  in  on  him. 

"  And  as  for  the  lords  of  state,"  said  Miss  Damahoy, 
"  ye  suld  mind  the  riding  o'  the  parliament,  Mr.  Saddle- 
tree, in  the  gude  auld  time  before  the  Union, — a  year's 
rent  o'  mony  a  gude  estate  gaed  for  horse-graith  and  har- 
nessing, forbye  broidered  robes  and  foot-mantles,  that  wad 
hae  stude  by  their  lane  wi'  gold  brocade,  and  sic  things 
were  muckle  in  my  ain  line." 

"  Ay,  and  then  the  lusty  banquetting,  with  sweetmeats 
and  comfits  wet  and  dry,  and  dried  fruits  of  divers  sorts,'* 
said  Plumdamas.  "  But  Scotland  was  Scotland  in  these 
days." 

"  rU  tell  you  what  it  is,  neighbours,"  said  Mrs.  How- 
den, "  I'll  ne'er  believe  Scotland  is  Scotland  ony  mair,  if 
Qur  kindly  Scots  sit  doun  with  the  affront  they  hae  gi'en 


52  TALES    OF    MY    XANDLORD. 

US  this  day.  It's  not  only  the  blude  that  is  shed,  but  the 
blude  that  might  hae  been  shed,  that's  required  at  our 
hands  ;  there  was  my  daughter's  wean,  little  Eppie  Daidle 
—ray  oe,  ye  ken.  Miss  Grizeil — had  play'd  the  truant  frae 
the  school,  as  bairns  will  do,  ye  ken,  Mr.  Butler" 

"  And  for  which,"  interjected  Mr.  Butler,  "  they  should 
be  soundly  scourged  by  their  well-wishers." 

"  And  had  just  cruppin  to  the  gallows'  foot  to  see  the 
hanging,  as  was  natural  for  a  wean  5  and  what  for  might 
na  she  hae  been  shot  as  vveel  as  the  rest  o'  them,  and 
where  wad  we  a'  hae  been  then  ^  I  wonder  how  Queen 
Carline  (if  her  name  be  Carline,)  wad  hae  liked  to  hae 
had  ane  o'  her  ain  bairns  in  sic  a  venture  *?" 

^'  Report  says,"  answered  Butler,  "  that  such  a  circum- 
stance would  not  have  distressed  her  majesty  beyond  en- 
durance." 

"  Aweel,"  said  ^Irs.  Howden,  "  the  sum  0'  the  matter 
is,  that,  were  I  a  man,  I  wad  hae  amends  o'  Jock  Porte- 
ous,  be  the  upshot  what  like  o't,  if  a'  the  carles  and  car- 
lines  in  England  had  sworn  to  the  nay-say." 

"  I  would  claw  down  the  tolbooth  door  wi'  my  nails," 
said  Miss  Grizeil,  *'  but  I  wad  be  at  him." 

"  Ye  may  be  very  right,  ladies,"  said  Butler,  "  but  I 
would  not  advise  you  to  speak  so  loud." 

"  Speak  !"  exclaimed  both  the  ladies  together,  "  there 
will  be  naething  else  spoken  about  frae  the  Weigh-house 
to  the  Water-port,  till  this  is  either  ended  or  mended." 

The  females  now  departed  to  their  respective  places  of 
abode.  Plumdamas  joined  the  other  two  gentlemen  in 
taking  their  meridian,  (a  bumper-dram  of  brandy,)  as 
they  passed  the  well-known  low-browed  shop  in  the  Lawn- 
market,  where  they  were  wont  to  take  that  refreshment. 
Mr.  Plumdamas  then  departed  towards  his  shop,  and  Mr. 
Butler,  who  happened  to  have  some  particular  occasion 
for  the  rein  of  an  old  bridle,  (the  truants  of  that  busy  day 
could  have  anticipated  its  application,)  walked  down  the 
Lawn-market  with  Mr.  Saddletree,  each  talking  as  he 
could  get  a  word  thrust  in,  the  one  on  the  laws  of  Scot- 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAW.  5S 

land,  the  other  on  those  of  syntax,  and  neither  listening 
to  a  word  which  his  companion  uttered. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Elswhair  he  colde  right  weel  lay  down  the  law, 
But  in  his  house  was  meek  as  is  a  daw. 

Davie  Lindsay. 

"  There  has  been  Jock  Driver  the  carrier  here,  speer- 
ing  about  his  new  graith,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree  to  her 
husband,  as  he  crossed  his  threshold,  not  with  the  purpose 
by  any  means  of  consulting  him  upon  his  own  affairs,  but 
merely  to  intimate,  by  a  gentle  recapitulation,  how  much 
duty  she  had  gone  through  in  his  absence. 

"  Weel,"  replied  Bartoline,  and  deigned  not  a  word 
more. 

"  And  the  Laird  of  Girdingburst  has  had  his  running 
footman  here,  and  ca'd  himsell,  (he's  a  civil  pleasant  young 
gentleman,)  to  see  w^hen  the  broidered  saddle-cloth  for 
his  sorrel  horse  will  be  ready,  for  he  wants  it  agane  the 
Kelso  races." 

"  Weel,  aweel,"  replied  Bartoline,  as  laconically  as 
before. 

"  And  his  lordship,  the  Earl  of  Blazonbury,  Lord  Flash 
and  Flame,  is  like  to  be  clean  daft,  that  the  harness  for 
the  six  Flanders  mares,  wi'  the  crests,  coronets,  housings, 
and  mountings  conform,  are  na  sent  hame  according  to 
promise  gi'en." 

'*  Weel,  weel,  weel — weel,  weel,  gudewife,"  said  Sad- 
dletree, "  if  he  gangs  daft,  we'll  hae  him  cognosced — it's 
a'  very  weel." 

"  It's  weel  that  ye  think  sae,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  answer- 
ed his  helpmate,  rather  nettled  at  the  indifference  with 
which  her  report  was  received  5  "  there's  mony  ane  wad 

5*      VOL.    I. 


54  TALES   OF   MY  XANDLORD. 

hae  thought  themselves  affronted,  if  sae  mony  customers 
had  ca'ad  and  naebody  to  answer  them  but  women-folk ; 
for  a'  the  lads  were  aff,  as  sune  as  your  back  was  turned, 
to  see  Porteous  hanged,  that  might  be  counted  upon  ; 
and  sae,  you  no  being  at  hame" 

"  Houts,  Mrs.  Saddletree,"  said  Bartoline,  with  an  air 
of  consequence,  "  dinna  deave  me  wi'  your  nonsense  ;  I 
was  under  the  necessity  of  being  elsewhere — non  omnia 
— as  Mr.  Crossmyloof  said  when  he  was  called  by  two 
raacers  at  once,  non  omnia possumus — pessimus — possimis 
— I  ken  our  law-latin  offends  Mr.  Butler's  ears,  but  it 
means  naebody,  an'  it  were  the  Lord  President  himsell, 
can  do  twa  turns  at  ance." 

"  Very  right,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  answered  his  careful 
lielpmate,  with  a  sarcastic  smile,  "  and  nae  doubt  it's  a 
decent  thing  to  leave  your  wife  to  look  after  young  gen- 
tlemen's saddles  and  bridles,  when  ye  gang  to  see  a  man, 
that  never  did  ye  nae  ill,  raxing  a  halter." 

"  Woman,"  said  Saddletree,  assuming  an  elevated  tone, 
to  which  the  meridian  had  somewhat  contributed,  "  desist, 
— I  say  forbear,  from  intromitting  with  affairs  thou  can'st 
nbt  understand.  D'ye  think  I  was  born  to  sit  here  brog- 
ging  an  elshin  through  bend-leather,  when  sic  men  as 
Duncan  Forbes,  and  that  other  Arniston  chield  there, 
without  muckle  greater  parts,  if  the  close-head  speak  true, 
than  mysell,  maun  be  presidents  and  king's  advocates  nae 
doubt,  and  wha  but  they  9  Whereas,  were  favour  equally 
distribute,  as  in  the  days  of  the  wight  Wallace" 

*'  I  ken  naething  we  wad  hae  gotten  by  the  wight  Wal- 
lace," said  Mrs.  Saddletree,  "  unless,  as  I  hae  heard  the 
auld  folk  tell,  they  fought  in  thae  days  wi'  bend-leather 
guns,  and  then  it's  a  chance  but  what,  if  he  bought  them, 
he  might  forget  to  pay  for  them.  And  as  for  the  great- 
ness of  your  parts,  Bartley,  the  folk  in  the  close-head 
maun  ken  mair  about  them  than  I  do,  if  they  make  sic  a 
report  of  them." 

"  1  tell  ye,  woman,"  said  Saddletree,  in  high  dudgeon, 
**  that  ye  ken  naething  about  these  matters.  In  Sir  Wil- 
liam Wallace's  days,  there  was  nae  man  pinned  down  to 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAX .  65 

sic  a  slavish  wark  as  a  saddler's,  for  they  got  ony  leather 
graith  that  they  had  use  for  ready-made  out  of  Holland.'* 

"  Well,"  said  Butler,  who  was,  like  many  of  his  pro- 
fession, something  of  a  humourist  and  dry  joker,  "  if 
that  be  the  case,  Mr.  Saddletree,  "  I  think  we  have  chang- 
ed for  the  better  ;  since  we  make  our  own  harness,  and 
only  import  our  lawyers  from  Holland." 

"  It's  ower  true,  Mr.  Butler,"  answered  Bartoline,  with 
a  sigh  ;  "  if  I  had  had  the  luck — or  rather,  if  my  father  had 
had  the  sense  to  send  me  to  Leyden  and  Utrecht  to  learn 
the  Substitutes  and  Pandex" 

"  You  mean  the  Institutes — Justinian's  Institutes,  Mr. 
Saddletree,"  said  Butler. 

"  Institutes  and  substitutes  are  synonymous  words,  Mr. 
Butler,  and  used  indifferently  as  such  in  deeds  of  tailzie, 
as  you  may  see  in  Balfour's  Practiques,  or  Dallas  of  St. 
Martin's  Stiles.  J  understand  these  things  pretty  weel,  I 
thank  God  ;  but  I  own  I  should  have  studied  in  Holland." 

"  To  comfort  you,  you  might  not  have  been  farther  for- 
ward than  you  now  are,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  repHed  Mr. 
Butler  ;  "  for  our  Scottish  advocates  are  an  aristocratic 
race — Their  brass  is  of  the  right  Corinthian  quality,  and 
JVow  cuivis  contigit  adire  Corinthum — aha,  Mr.  Sad- 
dletree 9" 

"  And  aha,  Mr.  Butler,"  rejoined  Bartoline,  upon 
whom,  as  may  be  well  supposed,  the  jest  was  lost,  and  all 
but  the  sound  of  the  words,  "  ye  said  a  gliff  syne  it  was 
quivis,  and  now  I  heard  ye  say  cuivis  with  my  ain  ears, 
as  plain  as  ever  I  heard  a  word  at  the  fore-bar." 

"  Give  me  your  patience,  Mr.  Saddletree,  and  I'll  ex- 
plain the  discrepancy  in  three  words,"  said  Butler,  as 
pedantic  in  his  own  department,  though  with  infinitely 
more  judgment  and  learning,  as  Bartoline  was  in  his  self- 
assumed  profession  of  the  law — "  Give  me  your  patience 
for  a  moment — You'll  grant  that  the  nominative  case  is 
that  by  which  a  person  or  thing  is  nominated  or  designed, 
and  which  may  be  called  the  primary  case,  all  others 
being  formed  from  it  by  alterations  of  the  termination  in 
the  learned  languages,  and  by  prepositions  in  our  modern 


56  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

Babylonian  jargons — You'll  grant  me  that,  I  suppose,  Mr. 
Saddletree  9" 

"  I  dinna  ken  whether  I  will  or  no — ad  avisandum,  ye 
ken — naebody  should  be  in  a  hurry  to  make  admissions, 
either  in  point  of  law,  or  in  point  of  fact,"  said  Saddle- 
tree, looking,  or  endeavouring  to  look,  as  if  he  under- 
stood what  was  said. 

"  And  the  dative  case,"  continued  Butler 

"  I  ken  what  a  tutor  dative  is,"  said  Saddletree,  "  read- 
ily enough." 

"  The  dative  case,"  resumed  the  grammarian,  "  is  that 
in  which  any  thing  is  given  or  assigned  as  properly  be- 
longing to  a  person,  or  thing — You  cannot  deny  that,  I 
am  sure." 

"  I  am  sure  I'll  no  grant  it  though,"  said  Saddletree. 

"  Then,  what  the  deevil  d'ye  take  the  nominative  and 
the  dative  cases  to  be  9"  said  Butler,  hastily,  and  surpris- 
ed at  once  out  of  his  decency  of  expression  and  accuracy 
of  pronunciation. 

"  I'll  tell  you  that  at  leisure,  Mr.  Butler,"  said  Saddle- 
tree, with  a  very  knowing  look  ;  "  I'll  take  a  day  to  see 
and  answer  every  article  of  your  condescendence,  and 
then  I'll  hold  ye  to  confess  or  deny  as  accords." 

*'  Come,  come,  Mr.  Saddletree,"  said  his  wife,  ''  we'll 
have  nae  confessions  and  condescendences  here  ;  let  them 
deal  in  thae  sort  o'  wares  that  are  paid  for  them — they 
suit  the  like  o'  us  as  ill  as  a  demipique  saddle  would  set  a 
draught  ox." 

"  Aha  !"  said  Mr.  Butler,  *'  Optat  ephippia  bos  piger, 
nothing  new  under  the  sun — But  it  was  a  fair  hit  of  Mrs. 
Saddletree,  however." 

"  And  it  wad  far  better  become  ye,  Mr.  Saddletree," 
continued  his  helpmate,  "  since  ye  say  ye  hae  skeel  o' 
the  law,  to  try  if  ye  can  do  ony  thing  for  Effie  Deans,  puir 
thing, that's  lying  up  in  thetolbooth  yonder,  cauld,  and  hun- 
gry, and  comfortless — a  servant  lass  of  ours,  Mr.  Butler, 
and  as  innocent  a  lass,  to  my  thinking,  and  as  usefu'  in  the 
chop — When  Mr.  Saddletree  gangs  out, — and  ye're  aware 
he's  seldom  at  hame  when  there's  ony  o'  the  plea-houses 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-IOTHIAN".  57 

open, — poorEffie  used  to  help  me  to  tumble  the  bundles  o' 
barkened  leather  up  and  down,  and  range  out  the  gudes, 
and  suit  a'  body's  humours — And  troth,  she  could  aye 
please  the  customers  wi'  her  answers,  for  she  was  aye  civil, 
and  a  bonnier  lass  wasna  in  Auld  Reekie.  And  when  folk 
were  hasty  and  unreasonable,  she  could  serve  them  better 
than  me,  that  am  no  sae  yoimg  as  I  hae  been,  Mr.  Butler, 
and  a  wee  bit  short  in  the  temper  into  the  bargain.  For 
when  there's  ower  mony  folks  crying  on  me  at  anes,  and 
nane  but  ae  tongue  to  answer  them,  folk  maun  speak  has- 
tilv,  or  they'll  ne'er  get  through  wark — Sae  I  miss  Effie 
daily." 

*'  De  die  in  diem,^^  added  Saddletree. 

"  I  think,"  said  Butler,  after  a  good  deal  of  hesitation, 
''  I  have  seen  the  girl  in  the  shop — a  modest-looking, 
black-haired  girl  V 

"  Ay,  ay,  that's  just  puir  Effie,"  said  her  mistress. 
"  How  she  was  abandoned  to  hersell,  or  whether  she  was 
sackless  o'  the  sinfu'  deed,  God  in  Heaven  knows  ;  but 
if  she's  been  guilty,  she's  been  sair  tempted,  and  I  wad 
amaist  take  my  bible-aith  she  hasna  been  hersell  at  the 
time." 

Butler  had  by  this  time  become  much  agitated  ;  he 
fidgetted  up  and  down  the  shop,  and  showed  the  greatest 
agitation  that  a  person  of  such  strict  decorum  could  be 
supposed  to  give  way  to.  "  Was  not  this  girl,"  he  said, 
"  the  daughter  of  David  Deans,  that  had  the  parks  at 
St.  Leonard's  taken  ?   and  has  she  not  a  sister  '?" 

"  In  troth  has  she — puir  Jeanie  Deans,  ten  years  aulder 
than  hersell  ;  she  was  here  greeting  a  wee  while  syne 
about  her  sister.'  And  what  could  I  say  to  her,  but  that 
she  behoved  to  come  and  speak  to  Mr.  Saddletree  when 
he  was  at  hame  ^  It  wasna  that  I  thought  Mr.  Saddletree 
could  do  her  or  ony  other  body  muckle  gude  or  ill,  but  it 
wad  aye  serve  to  keep  the  puir  thing's  heart  up  for  a  wee 
while  ;  and  let  sorrow  come  when  sorrow  maun." 

"  Ye're  mista'en  though,  gudewife,"  said  Saddletree 
scornfully,  "  for  I  could  hae  gien  her  great  satisfaction  -, 
I  could  hae  proved  to  her  that  her  sister  was  indicted  upon 


58  TALES    OF   MY    LANDLORD. 

the  statute  saxteen  hundred  and  ninety,  chapter  one — For 
the  mair  ready  prevention  of  child-murder — for  conceal- 
ing her  pregnancy,  and  giving  no  account  of  the  child 
which  she  had  borne." 

"  I  hope,"  said  Butler, — "  I  trust  in  a  gracious  God, 
that  she  can  clear  herself." 

"  And  sae  do  I,  Mr.  Butler,"  replied  Mrs.  Saddletree. 
"  I  am  sure  I  wad  hae  answered  for  her  as  my  ain  daugh- 
ter ;  but,  waes  my  heart !  J  had  been  tender  a'  the  sim- 
mer, and  scarce  ower  the  door  o'  my  room  for  twal  weeks. 
And  as  for  Mr.  Saddletree,  he  might  live  a  week  in  a  lying- 
in  hospital,  and  ne'er  find  out  what  the  women  cam  there 
for.  Sae  1  could  see  little  or  naething  o'  her,  or  I  wad 
hae  had  the  truth  o'  her  situation  out  o'  her,  Fse  warrant 
ye — But  we  a'  think  her  sister  maun  be  able  to  speak 
something  to  clear  her." 

''  The  haill  Parliament  House,"  said  Saddletree,  '^  was 
speaking  o'  naething  else,  till  this  job  o'  Porteous's  put 
it  out  o'  head — It's  a  beautiful  point  of  presumptive  mur- 
der, and  there's  been  nane  like  it  in  the  Justiciar  Court 
since  the  case  of  Luckie  Smith  the  howdie,  that  suffered 
in  the  year  saxteen  hundred  and  seventy-nine." 

"  But  what's  the  matter  wi'  you,  Mr.  Butler  *?"  said  the 
good  woman  ;  "  ye  are  looking  as  white  as  a  sheet  ;  will 
ye  take  a  dram  '?" 

"  By  no  means,"  said  Butler,  compelling  himself  to 
speak.  "  I  walked  in  from  Dumfries  yesterday,  and  this 
is  a  warm  day." 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree,  laying  hands  on  him 
kindly,  "  and  rest  ye — ye'll  kill  yoursell,  man,  at  that 
rale. — And  are  we  to  wish  ye  joy  o'  getting  the  scule, 
Mr.  Butler  9" 

"  Yes — no — I  do  not  know." 

*'  Ye  dinna  ken  whether  ye  are  to  get  the  free  scule  o' 
Dumfries  or  no,  after  hinging  on  and  teaching  it  a'  the 
simmer  ']" 

"  No,  Mrs.  Saddletree — I  am  not  to  have  it,"  replied 
Butler.      "  The  Laird  of  Black-at-the-bane  had  a  natu- 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-tOTHIAKT.  59 

ral  son  bred  to  the  kirk,  that  the  presbytery  could  not  be 
prevailed  upon  to  license  ;  and  so" 

"  Ay,  ye  need  say  nae  mair  about  it ;  if  there  was  a 
laird  that  had  a  puir  kinsman  or  a  bastard  that  it  wad  suit, 
there's  eneugh  said. — And  ye're  e'en  come  back  to  Lib- 
berton  to  wait  for  dead  men's  shoon  9 — and,  for  as  frail 
as  Mr.  Whackbairn  is,  he  may  live  as  lang  as  you,  that  are 
his  assistant  and  successor." 

"  Very  hke,"  replied  Butler  with  a  sigh  ;  "  I  do  not 
know  if  I  should   wish  it  otherwise." 

"  Nae  doubt  it's  a  very  vexing  thing,"  continued  the 
good  lady.  "  to  be  in  that  dependent  station  ;  and  you 
that  hae  right  and  title  to  sae  muckle  better,  I  wonder  how 
ye  bear  these  crosses." 

"  Q^uos  diligit  castigat,^^  answered  Butler  ;  "  even  the 
pagan  Seneca  could  see  an  advantage  in  affliction.  The 
Heathens  had  their  philosophy,  and  the  Jews  their  reve- 
lation, Mrs.  Saddletree,  and  they  endured  their  distresses 
in  their  day.     Christians  have  a  better  dispensation  than 


He  stopped  and  sighed. 

"  I  ken  what  ye  mean,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree,  looking 
toward  her  husband  ;  "  There's  whiles  we  lose  patience 
in  spite  of  baith  book  and  Bible — But  ye  are  no  gaun 
awa,  and  looking  sae  poorly — ye'll  stay  and  take  some 
kale  wi'  us  9" 

Mr.  Saddletree  laid  aside  Balfour's  Practiques,  (his 
favourite  study,  and  much  good  may  it  do  him,)  to  join 
in  his  wife's  hospitable  importunity.  But  the  teacher  de- 
cHned  all  entreaty,  and  took  his  leave  upon  the  spot. 

"  There's  something  in  a'  this,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree, 
k>oking  after  him  as  he  walked  up  the  street ;  "  I  wonder 
what  makes  Mr.  Butler  sae  distressed  about  Effie's  mis- 
fortune— there  was  nae  acquaintance  atween  them  that 
ever  I  saw  or  heard  of  ;  but  they  were  neighbours  when 
David  Deans  was  on  the  Laird  of  Dumhiedike's  land. 
Mr.  Butler  wad  ken  her  father,  or  some  o'  her  folk. — Get 
up,  Mr.  Saddletree — ye  have  set  yoursell  down  or.  'he 
very  breacham  that  wants  stitching — And   here's  littl* 


60  TALKS    OF    MY    Ii\NDLORD. 

Willie,  the  prentice. — Ye  little  rin-there-out  de'il  that  ye 
are,  what  takes  you  raking  through  the  gutters  to  see  folk 
hangit  1 — ho\v  wad  ye  like  when  it  comes  to  be  your  ain 
chance,  as  I  winna  ensure  ye,  if  ye  dinna  mend  your 
manners  "? — And  what  are  ye  maundering  and  greeting 
for,  as  if  a  word  were  breaking  your  banes  9  gang  in  bye, 
and  be  a  better  bairn  another  time,  and  tell  Peggy  to  gi'e 
ye  a  bicker  o'  broth,  for  ye'll  be  as  gleg  as  a  gled,  I'se 
warrant  ye. — It's  a  fatherless  bairn,  Mr.  Saddletree,  and 
motherless,  whilk  in  some  cases  may  be  waur,  and  ane  wad 
tal.e  care  o'  bim,  if  they  could — it's  a  Christian  duty." 

"  Very  true,  goodwife,"  said  Saddletree  in  reply,  "  we 
are  in  toco  parentis  to  him  during  his  years  of  pupillarity, 
and  1  hae  had  thoughts  o'  applying  to  the  Court  for  a 
commission  as  factor  loco  tutoris,  seeing  there  is  nae  tutor 
nominate,  and  the  tutor-at-law  declines  to  act  ;  but  only 
I  fear  the  expense  of  the  procedure  wad  not  be  in  rem 
versam,  for  I  am  not  aware  that  Wilhe  has  ony  effects 
whereof  to  assume  the  administration." 

He  concluded  this  sentence  with  a  self-important  cough, 
as  one  who  has  laid  down  the  law  in  an  indisputable 
manner. 

"  Effects  !"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree,  "  what  effects  has 
the  puir  wean  ? — he  was  in  rags  when  his  mother  died  ; 
and  the  blue  polonie  that  Effie  made  for  him  out  of  an 
auld  mantle  of  my  ain,  was  the  first  decent  dress  the  bairn 
ever  had  on.  Poor  Effie  !  can  ye  tell  me  now  really,  wi' 
a'  your  law,  will  her  life  be  in  danger,  Mr.  Saddletree, 
when  they  are  na  able  to  prove  that  ever  there  was  a 
bairn  born  ava  ?" 

"  Whoy,"  said  Mr.  Saddletree,  dehghted  at  having  for 
once  in  his  life  seen  his  wife's  attention  arrested  by  a  topic 
of  legal  discussion — '*  Whoy,  there  are  two  sorts  of  mur- 
drum  or  murdragium,  or  what  you  populariter  et  vulgar- 
iter  call  murther.  I  mean  there  are  many  sorts  ;  for 
there's  your  murthrum  per  vigilias  et  insidiaSf  and  your 
murthrum  under  trust." 

''  I  am  sure  that's  the  way  the  gentry  murder  us  mer- 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAIf .  61 

chants,  and  whiles  makes  us  shut  the  booth  up — but  that 
has  naething  to  do  wi'  Effie's  misfortune." 

"  The  case  of  Effie  (or  Euphemia)  Deans,"  resumed 
Saddletree,  "  is  one  of  those  cases  of  murder  presump- 
tive, that  is,  a  murder  of  the  law's  inferring  or  construc- 
tion, being  derived  from  certain  indicia  or  grounds  of 
suspicion." 

"  So  that,"  said  the  good  woman,  "  unless  poor  Effie 
has  communicated  her  siluation,  she'll  be  hanged  by  the 
neck,  if  the  bairn  was  still-born,  or  if  it  be  alive  at  this 
moment  ?" 

"  Assuredly,"  said  Saddletree,  "  it  being  a  statute  made 
by  our  sovereign  Lord  and  Lady,  to  prevent  the  horrid 
delict  of  bringing  forth  children  in  secret — the  crime  is 
rather  a  favourite  of  the  law,  this  species  of  murther  be- 
ing one  of  its  ain  creation." 

"  Then,  if  the  law  makes  murders,"  said  Mrs.  Saddle- 
tree, "  the  law  should  be  hanged  for  them  ;  or  if  they  wad 
hang  a  lawyer  instead,  the  country  wad  find  nae  faut." 

A  summons  to  their  frugal  dinner  interrupted  the  fur- 
ther progress  of  the  conversation,  which  was  otherwise 
like  to  take  a  turn  much  less  favourable  to  the  science  of 
jurisprudence  and  its  professors,  than  Mr.  Bartoline  Sad- 
dletree, the  fond  admirer  of  both,  had  at  its  opening  an- 
ticipated. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

But  up  then  raise  all  Edinburgh, 
They  all  rose  up  by  thousands  three. 

Johnie  Armstrong's  Goodnight. 

Butler,  on  his  departure  from  the  sign  of  the  Golden 
Nag,  went  in  quest  of  a  friend  of  his  connected  with  the 
law,  at  whom  he  wished  to  make  particular  inquiries  con- 

6       VOL.    I. 


62  TALES    OF   MY   LANDLORD. 

cerning  the  circumstances  in  which  the  unfortunate  young 
woman  mentioned  in  the  last  chapter  was  placed,  having,  as 
the  reader  has  probably  already  conjectured,  reasons  nuich 
deeper  than  those  dictated  by  mere  humanity,  for  inter- 
esting himself  in  her  fate.  He  found  the  person  he  sought 
absent  from  home,  and  was  equally  unfortunate  in  one  or 
two  other  calls  which  he  made  upon  acquaintances  whom 
he  hoped  to  interest  in  her  story.  But  every  body  was, 
for  the  moment,  stark-mad  on  the  subject  of  Porteous, 
and  engaged  busily  in  attacking  or  defending  the  measures 
of  government  in  reprieving  him  ;  and  the  ardour  of  dis- 
pute had  excited  such  universal  thirst,  that  half  the  young 
lawyers  and  writers,  together  with  their  very  clerks,  the 
class  whom  Butler  was  looking  after,  had  adjourned  the 
debate  to  some  favourite  tavern.  It  was  computed  by  an 
experienced  arithmetician,  that  there  was  as  much  two- 
penny ale  consumed  on  the  discussion  as  would  have  float- 
ed a  first-rate  man-of-war. 

Butler  wandered  about  until  it  was  dusk,  resolving  to 
take  that  opportunity  of  visiting  the  unfortunate  young 
woman,  when  his  doing  so  might  be  least  observed  ;  for 
he  had  his  own  reasons  for  avoiding  the  remarks  of  Mrs. 
Saddletree,  whose  shop-door  opened  at  no  great  distance 
from  that  of  the  gaol,  though  on  the  opposite  or  south 
side  of  the  street,  and  a  little  higher  up.  He  passed, 
therefore,  through  the  narrow  and  partly  covered  passage 
leading  from  the  north-west  end  of  the  Parliament  Square. 

He  stood  now  before  the  Gothic  entrance  of  the  an- 
cient prison,  which,  as  is  well  known  to  all  men,  rears  its 
ancient  front  in  the  very  middle  of  the  High-Street,  form- 
ing, as  it  were,  the  termination  to  a  huge  pile  of  buildings 
called  the  Luckenbooths,  which,  for  some  inconceivable 
reason,  our  ancestors  have  jammed  into  the  midst  of  the 
principal  street  of  the  town,  leaving  for  passage  a  narrow 
street  on  the  north,  and  on  the  south,  into  which  the  prison 
opens,  a  narrow  crooked  lane,  winding  betwixt  the  high 
and  sombre  walls  of  the  Tolbooth  and  the  adjacent  houses 
on  the  one  side,  and  the  buttresses  and  projections  of  the 
old  Cathedral  upon  the  other.      To  give  some  gaiety  to 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-lOTHIAX.  63 

tliis  sombre  passage,  (well  known  by  the  name  of  the 
Krames,)  a  number  of  little  booths,  or  shops,  after  the  fash- 
ion of  cobblers'  stalls,  were  plaistered,  as  it  were,  against 
the  Gothic  projections  and  abutments,  so  that  it  seemed 
as  if  the  traders  had  occupied  with  nests,  bearing  the 
same  proportion  to  the  building,  every  buttress  and  coigne 
of  vantage,  as  the  martlett  did  in  Macbeth's  Castle.  Of 
later  years  these  booths  have  degenerated  into  mere  toy- 
shops, where  the  little  loiterers  chiefly  interested  in  such 
wares  are  tempted  to  hnger,  enchanted  by  the  rich  display 
of  hobby-horses,  babies,  and  Dutch  toys,  arranged  in  art- 
ful and  gay  confusion  ;  yet  half-scared  by  the  cross  looks 
of  the  withered  pantaloon,  or  spectacled  old  lady,  by 
whom  these  tempting  stores  are  w^atched  and  superintend- 
ed. But,  in  the  times  we  write  of,  the  hosiers,  the  glovers, 
the  hatters,  the  mercers,  the  milliners,  and  all  who  dealt 
in  the  miscellaneous  wares  now  termed  haberdasher's 
goods,  were  to  be  found  in  this  narrow  alley. 

To  return  from  our  digression.  Butler  found  the  outer 
turnkey,  a  tall  thin  old  man,  with  long  silver  hair,  in  the 
act  of  locking  the  outward  door  of  the  gaol.  He  ad- 
dressed himself  to  this  person,  and  asked  admittance  to 
Effie  Deans,  confined  upon  accusation  of  child-murder. 
The  turnkey  looked  at  him  earnestly,  and,  ci\illy  touch- 
ing his  hat  out  of  respect  to  Butler's  black  coat  and  cler- 
ical appearance,  replied,  "  It  was  impossible  any  one 
could  be  admitted  at  present." 

"  You  shut  up  earlier  than  usual,  probably  on  account 
of  Captain  Porteous's  affair  ?"  said  Butler. 

The  turnkey,  with  the  true  mystery  of  a  person  in  of- 
fice, gave  two  grave  nods,  and  withdrawing  from  the 
wards  a  ponderous  key  of  about  two  feet  in  length,  he 
proceeded  to  shut  a  strong  plate  of  steel,  which  folded 
down  above  the  key-hole,  and  w^as  secured  by  a  steel- 
spring  and  catch.  Butler  stood  still  instinctively  while 
the  door  was  made  fast,  and  then  looking  at  his  watch, 
walked  briskly  up  the  street,  muttering  to  himself  almost 
unconsciously — 


64  TALES    OF    MT    LANDLORD. 

"  Porta  adversa  ingens,  solidoque  adamante  columnae  ; 
Vis  ut  nulla  virum,  iion  ipsi  exsciudere  ferro 
Ccelicolae  valeai)t — Slat  ferrea  turris  ad  auras,"* — &c. 

Having  wasted  more  time  in  a  second  fruitless  attempt 
to  seek  out  bis  legal  friend  and  adviser,  he  thought  it  time 
to  leave  the  city  and  return  to  his  place  of  residence,  in 
a  small  v^illage,  about  two  miles  and  a  half  to  the  south- 
ward of  Edinburgh.  The  metropolis  was  at  this  time 
surrounded  by  a  high  wall  with  battlements  and  flanking 
projections  at  intervals,  and  the  access  was  through 
gates,  called  in  the  Scottish  language  ports,  which  were 
regularly  shut  at  night.  A  small  fee  to  the  keepers  would 
indeed  procure  egress  and  ingress  at  any  time,  through  a 
wicket  left  for  that  purpose  in  the  large  gate ;  but  it  was 
of  some  importance,  to  a  man  so  poor  as  Butler,  to  avoid 
even  this  slight  pecuniary  mulct ;  and  fearing  he  might  be 
near  the  hour  of  shutting  the  gates,  he  made,  for  that  to 
which  he  found  himself  nearest,  although,  by  doing  so,  he 
somewhat  lengthened  his  walk  homewards.  Bristo-port 
was  that  by  which  his  direct  road  lay,  but  the  West-port, 
which  leads  out  of  the  Grass-market,  was  the  nearest  of 
the  city  gates  to  the  place  where  he  found  himself,  and  to 
that,  therefore,  he  directed  his  course.  He  reached  the 
port  in  ample  time  to  pass  the  circuit  of  the  walls,  and 
enter  a  suburb  called  Portsburgh,  chiefly  inhabited  by  the 
lower  order  of  citizens  and  mechanics.  Here  he  was 
unexpectedly  interrupted. 

He  had  not  gone  far  from  the  gate  before  he  heard  the 
sound  of  a  drum,  and,  to  his  great  surprise,  met  a  num- 
ber of  persons,  suiiicient  to  occupy  the  whole  front  of  the 
street,  and  form  a  considerable  mass  behind,  moving  with 
great  speed  towards  the  gate  he  had  just  come  from,  and 

*  Wide  is  the  fronting  gate,  and,  raised  on  high, 
With  adamantine  columns  threats  the  sky  ; 
Vain  is  the  force  of  man,  and  Heaven's  as  vain, 
To  crush  the  pillars  which  the  pile  sustain  ; 
Sublime  on  these  a  tower  of  steel  is  reared. 

Pryden's  Virgil^  book  vi- 


THE    ilEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAJ(.  65 

having  in  front  of  them  a  drum  beating  to  arms.  While 
he  considered  how  he  should  escape  a  party,  assembled, 
as  it  might  be  presumed,  for  no  lawful  purpose,  they  came 
full  on  him  and  stopped  him. 

*'  Are  you  a  clergyman '?"  one  questioned  him. 

Butler  replied  that  "  he  was  in  orders,  but  was  not  a 
placed  minister." 

"  It's  Mr.  Butler  from  Libberton,"  said  a  voice  from 
behind  ;  "  he'll  discharge  the  duty  as  weel  as  ony  man." 

"  You  must  turn  back  with  us,  sir,"  said  the  first 
speaker,  in  a  tone  civil  but  peremptory. 

*'  For  what  purpose,  gentlemen  9"  said  Mr.  Butler. 
"  I  live  at  some  distance  from  town — the  roads  are  un- 
safe by  night — You  will  do  me  a  serious  injury  by  stop- 
ping me." 

"  You  shall  be  seen  safely  home — no  man  shall  touch 
a  hair  of  your  head — but  you  must,  and  shall  come  along 
with  us." 

"  But  to  what  purpose  or  end,  gentlemen  9"  said 
Butler.  "  I  hope  you  will  be  so  civil  as  to  explain  that, 
to  me  9" 

"  You  shall  know  that  in  good  lime.  Come  along — 
for  come  you  must,  by  force  '»r  fair  means  ;  and  I  warn 
you  to  look  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  the  left,  and  to 
take  no  notice  of  any  man's  face,  but  consider  all  that  is 
passing  before  you  as  a  dream." 

*'  1  would  it  were  a  dream  I  could  awaken  from," 
said  Butler  to  himself;  but  having  no  means  to  oppose 
the  violence  with  which  he  was  threatened,  he  was  com- 
pelled to  turn  round,  and  march  in  front  of  the  rioters, 
two  men  partly  supporting  a;id  partly  holding  him.  Dur- 
ing this  parley  the  insurgents  had  made  themselves  mas- 
ters of  the  West-port,  rushing  upon  the  waiters,  (so  the 
people  w^ere  called  who  had  the  charge  of  the  gates,) 
and  possessing  themselves  of  the  keys.  They  bolted  and 
barred  the  folding  doors,  and  commanded  the  person, 
whose  duty  it  usually  was,  to  secure  the  wicket,  of  which 
they  did  not  understand  the  fastenings.     The  man,  terri- 

6*       VOL.    I. 


66  TALES    OF   MY    LANDLORD, 

fied  at  an  incident  so  totally  unexpected,  was  unable  to 
perform  his  usual  office,  and  gave  the  matter  up,  after 
several  attempts.  The  rioters,  who  seemed  to  have  come 
prepared  for  every  emergency,  called  for  torches,  by  the 
light  of  which  they  nailed  up  the  wicket  with  long  nails, 
which,  it  seemed  probable,  they  had  provided  on  purpose. 

But  while  this  was  going  on,  Butler  could  not,  even  if 
he  had  been  willing,  have  avoided  making  remarks  on  the 
individuals  who  seemed  to  head  this  singular  mob.  The 
torch-light,  while  it  fell  on  their  forms,  and  left  him  in  the 
shade,  gave  him  an  opportunity  to  do  so  without  their 
observing  him.  Several  of  those  who  seemed  most  ac- 
tive were  dressed  in  sailors'  jackets,  trowsers,  and  sea- 
caps  ;  others  in  large  loose-bodied  great-coats,  and 
slouched  hats  ;  and  there  were  several,  who,  judging  from 
their  dress,  should  have  been  called  women,  whose  rough 
deep  voices,  uncommon  size,  and  masculine  deportment 
and  mode  of  walking,  forbade  them  being  so  interpreted. 
They  moved  as  if  by  some  well-concerted  plan  of  ar- 
rangement. They  had  signals  by  which  they  knew,  and 
nick-names  by  which  they  distinguished  each  other. 
Butler  remarked,  that  the  name  of  Wildfire  was  used 
among  them,  to  whicli,one  stout  Amazon  seemed  to  reply. 

The  rioters  left  a  small  party  to  observe  the  West- 
port,  and  directed  the  waiters,  as  they  valued  their  lives, 
to  remain  within  their  lodge,  and  make  no  attempt  for 
that  night  to  repossess  themselves  of  the  gate.  They 
then  moved  with  rapidity  along  the  low  street  called  the 
Cowgate,  the  mob  of  the  city  every  where  rising  at  the 
sound  of  their  drum,  and  joining  them.  When  they  ar- 
rived at  the  Cowgate-port,  they  secured  it  with  as  little 
opposition  as  the  former,  made  it  fast,  and  left  a  small 
party  to  observe  it.  It  was  afterw^ards  remarked,  as  a 
singular  instance  of  prudence  and  precaution,  singularly 
combined  with  audacity,  that  the  parties  left  to  guard 
those  gates  did  not  remain  stationary  on  their  posts,  but 
flitted  to  and  fro,  keeping  so  near  the  gates  as  to  see  that 
no  efforts  were  made  to  open  them,  yet  not  remaining  so 
long  as  to  have  their  persons  observed.      The  mob,  at 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-IOTHIAN.  67 

first  only  about  one  hundred  strong,  now  amounted  to 
thousands,  and  were  increasing  every  moment.  They 
divided  themselves,  so  as  to  ascend  with  more  speed  the 
various  narrow  lanes  which  lead  up  from  the  Cowgate  to 
the  High  Street  ;  and  still  beating  to  arms  as  they  went, 
and  calling  on  all  true  Scotchmen  to  join  them,  they  now 
filled  the  principal  street  of  the  city. 

The  Netherbow-port  might  be  called  the  Temple-bar 
of  Edinburgh,  as,  intersecting  the  High  Street  at  its  ter- 
mination, it  divided  Edinburgh,  properly  so  called,  from 
the  suburb  called  the  Canongate,  as  Temple-bar  divides 
London  from  Westminster.  It  was  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance to  the  rioters  to  possess  themselves  of  this  pass, 
because  there  was  quartered  in  the  Canongate  at  that 
time  a  regiment  of  infantry,  commanded  by  Colonel 
Moyle,  which  might  have  occupied  the  city  by  advancing 
through  this  gate,  and  totally  defeated  the  purpose  of  the 
rioters.  The  leaders  therefore  hastened  to  the  Nether- 
bow-port, which  they  secured  in  the  same  manner,  and 
with  as  little  trouble  as  the  other  gates,  leaving  a  party 
to  watch  it,  strong  in  proportion  to  the  importance  of  the 
post. 

The  next  object  of  these  hardy  insurgents  was  at  once 
to  disarm  the  City  Guard,  and  to  procure  arms  for  them- 
selves ;  for  scarce  any  weapons  but  staves  and  bludgeons 
had  been  yet  seen  among  them.  The  Guard-house  was 
a  long,  low,  ugly  building,  (removed  in  1787,)  which,  to 
a  fanciful  imagination,  might  have  suggested  the  idea  of  a 
long  black  snail  crawling  up  the  middle  of  the  High  Street, 
and  deforming  its  beautiful  esplanade.  This  formidable 
insurrection  had  been  so  unexpected,  that  there  were  no 
more  than  the  ordinary  sergeant's  guard  of  the  city-corps 
upon  duty  ;  even  these  were  without  any  supply  of  pow- 
der and  ball  ;  and,  sensible  enough  what  had  raised  the 
storm,  and  which  way  it  was  rolling,  could  hardly  be  sup- 
posed very  desirous  to  draw  on  themselves,  by  a  valiant 
defence,  the  animosity  of  so  numerous  and  desperate  a 
mob,  to  whom  they  were  on  the  present  occasion  much 
more  than  usually  obnoxious. 


68  TALES   OF   MY  LANDLORD. 

There  was  a  sentinel  upon  guard,  who  (that  one  town- 
guard  soldier  might  do  his  duty  on  that  eventful  eveniiig) 
presented  his  piece,  and  desired  the  foremost  of  the 
rioters  to  stand  off.  The  young  Amazon,  whom  Butler 
had  observed  particularly  active,  sprung  upon  the  soldier, 
seized  his  musket,  and,  after  a  struggle,  succeeded  in 
wrenching  it  from  him,  and  throwing  him  down  on  the 
causeway.  One  or  two  soldiers,  who  endeavoured 
to  turn  out  to  the  support  of  their  sentinel,  were  in  the 
same  manner  seized  and  disarmed,  and  the  mob  without 
difficulty  possessed  themselves  of  the  Guard-house,  dis- 
arming and  turning  out  the  rest  of  the  men  on  duty.  It 
was  remarked,  that  notwithstanding  the  city  soldiers  had 
been  the  instruments  of  the  slaughter  which  this  riot  was 
designed  to  revenge,  no  ill  usage,  or  even  insult,  was  of- 
fered to  them.  It  seemed  as  if  the  vengeance  of  the 
people  disdained  to  stoop  at  any  head  meaner  than  that 
which  they  considered  as  the  source  and  origin  of  their 
injuries. 

On  possessing  themselves  of  the  Guard,  their  first  act 
was  to  destroy  the  drums,  by  which  they  supposed  an 
alarm  might  be  conveyed  to  the  garrison  in  the  castle  ; 
for  the  same  reason  they  now  silenced  their  own,  which 
was  beaten  by  a  young  fellow,  son  to  the  drummer  of 
Portsburgh,  whom  they  had  forced  upon  that  service. 
Their  next  business  was  to  distribute  among  the  boldest 
of  the  rioters  the  guns,  bayonets,  partizans,  halberts,  and 
battle  or  Lochaber  axes.  Until  this  period  the  principal 
rioters  had  preserved  silence  on  the  ultimate  object  of 
their  rising,  as  being  that  which  all  knew,  but  none  ex- 
pressed. Now,  however,  having  accomplished  all  the 
the  preliminary  parts  of  their  design,  they  raised  a  tre- 
mendous shout  of  "  Porteous  !  Porteous  !  To  the  Tol- 
booth  !  To  the  Tolbooth  !" 

They  proceeded  with  the  same  prudence  when  the 
object  seemed  to  be  nearly  in  their  grasp,  as  they  had 
done  hhherto  when  success  was  more  dubious.  A  strong 
party  of  the  rioters,  drawn  up  in  front  of  the  Lucken- 
booths,  and  facing  down  the  street,  prevented  all  access 


THE    HEART   OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  69 

from  the  eastward,  and  the  west  end  of  the  defile  formed 
by  the  Luckenbooths  was  secured  in  the  same  manner  ; 
so  that  the  Tolbooth  was  completely  surrounded,  and 
those  who  undertook  the  task  of  breaking  it  open  effect- 
ually secured  against  the  risk  of  interruption. 

The  magistrates,  in  the  meanwhile,  had  taken  the 
alarm,  and  assembled  in  a  tavern,  with  the  purpose  of 
raising  some  strength  to  subdue  the  rioters.  The  deacons, 
or  presidents  of  the  trades,  were  appHed  to,  but  declared 
there  was  little  chance  of  their  being  useful  where  it  was 
the  object  to  save  a  man  so  obnoxious.  iMr.  Lindsay, 
member  of  parliament  for  the  city,  volunteered  the  peril- 
ous task  of  carrying  a  verbal  message  from  the  Lord 
Provost  to  Colonel  Moyle,  the  commander  of  the  regi- 
ment lying  in  the  Canongate,  requesting  him  to  force  the 
Netherbow-port,  and  enter  the  city  to  put  down  the  tu- 
mult. But  Mr.  Lindsay  dechned  to  charge  himself  with 
any  written  order,  which,  if  found  on  his  person  by  an 
enraged  mob,  might  have  cost  hmi  his  life  ;  and  the  issue 
of  the  application  was,  that  Colonel  Moyle,  having  no 
written  requisition  from  the  civil  authorities,  and  having 
the  fate  of  Porteous  before  his  eyes  as  an  example  of  the 
severe  construction  put  by  a  jury  on  the  proceedings  of 
military  men,  acting  on  their  own  responsibihty,  declined 
to  encounter  the  risk  to  which  the  Provost's  message 
invited  him. 

More  than  one  messenger  was  despatched  by  different 
ways  to  the  Castle,  to  require  the  commanding  officer  to 
march  down  his  troops,  to  fire  a  few  cannon-shot,  or  even 
to  throw  a  shell  among  the  mob,  for  the  purpose  of  clear- 
ing the  streets.  But  so  strict  and  watchful  were  the  va- 
rious patroles  whom  the  rioters  had  established  in  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  street,  that  none  of  the  emissaries  of  the 
magistrates  could  reach  the  gate  of  the  Castle.  They 
were,  however,  turned  back  without  either  injury  or  insult, 
and  with  nothing  more  of  menace  than  was  necessary  to 
deter  them  from  again  attempting  to  carry  their  errand. 

The  same  vigilance  was  used  to  prevent  every  body 
of  the   higher,  and  those  which,  in  this  case,  might  be 


70  TALES    OF   MY    XANDLORD. 

deemed  the  more  suspicious  orders  of  society,  from  ap- 
pearing in  the  street,  and  observing  the  movements,  or 
distinguishing  the  persons,  of  the  rioters.  Every  person 
in  the  garb  of  a  gentleman  was  stopped  by  small  parties 
of  two  or  three  of  the  mob,  who  partly  exhorted,  partly 
required  of  them,  that  they  should  return  to  the  place 
from  whence  they  came.  Many  a  quadrille  table  was 
spoiled  that  memorable  evening ;  for  the  sedan  chairs  of 
ladies,  even  of  the  highest  rank,  were  interrupted  iji 
their  passage  from  one  point  to  another,  in  despite  of  the 
laced  footmen  and  blazing  flambeaux.  This  was  uni- 
formly done  with  a  deference  and  attention  to  the  feelings 
of  the  ladies,  which  could  hardly  have  been  expected 
from  the  videttes  of  a  mob  so  desperate.  Those  who 
stopped  the  chair  usually  made  the  excuse,  that  there 
was  much  disturbance  on  the  streets,  and  that  it  was  ab- 
solutely necessary  for  the  lady's  safety  that  the  chair 
should  turn  back.  They  offered  themselves  to  escort  the 
chairs  which  they  had  thus  interrupted  in  their  progress, 
from  the  apprehension,  probably,  that  some  of  those  who 
had  casually  united  themselves  to  the  riot,  might  disgrace 
their  systematic  and  determined  plan  of  vengeance,  by 
those  acts  of  general  insult  and  license  which  are  com- 
mon on  similar  occasions. 

Persons  are  yet  hving  who  remembered  to  have  heard 
from  the  mouths  of  ladies  interrupted  on  their  jour- 
ney in  the  manner  we  have  described,  that  they  were  es- 
corted to  their  lodgings  by  the  young  men  who  stopped 
them,  and  even  handed  out  of  their  chairs,  with  a  polite 
attention  far  beyond  what  was  consistent  with  their  dress, 
which  was  apparently  that  of  journeymen  mechanics.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  conspirators,  like  those  who  assassinated 
the  Cardinal  Beatoun  in  former  days,  had  entertained 
the  opinion,  that  the  work  about  which  they  went  was  a 
judgment  of  Heaven,  which,  though  unsanctioned  by  the 
usual  authorities,  ought  to  be  proceeded  in  with  order 
and  gravity. 

While  their  outposts  continued  thus  vigilant,  and  suf- 
fered themselves  neither  from  fear  nor  curiosity  to  neglect 


THE    HEART   OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  71 

that  part  of  the  duty  assigned  to  them,  and  while  the 
main  guards  to  the  east  and  west  secured  them  against 
interruption,  a  select  body  of  the  rioters  thundered  at  the 
door  of  the  jail,  and  demanded  instant  admission.  No 
one  answered,  for  the  outer  keeper  had  prudently  made 
his  escape  with  the  keys  at  the  commencement  of  the 
riot,  and  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  The  doors  were  in- 
staiitly  assailed  with  sledge-hammers,  iron-crows,  and 
the  coulters  of  ploughs,  ready  provided  for  the  purpose, 
with  which  they  prized,  heaved,  and  battered  for  some 
time  with  litile  effect,  the  door  being  of  double  oak  planks, 
clenched  both  end-long  ai;d  athwart  with  broad-headed 
nails,  and  so  hung  and  secured  as  to  yield  to  no  means 
of  forcing,  without  the  expenditure  of  much  time.  The 
rioters,  however,  seemed  determined  to  gain  admittance. 
Gang  after  gang  relieved  each  other  at  the  exercise,  lor, 
of  course,  only  a  few  could  work  at  a  time.  But  gang 
after  gang  retired,  exhausted  with  their  violent  exeriions, 
without  making  much  progress  in  forcing  the  prison-door. 
Butler  had  been  led  up  near  to  this  the  principal  scene 
of  action  ;  so  near,  indeed,  that  he  was  almost  deaf^^ned 
by  the  unceasing  clang  of  the  heavy  forehammers  against 
the  iron-bound  portals  of  the  prison.  He  began  to  en- 
tertain hopes,  as  the  task  seemed  protracted,  that  the 
populace  might  give  it  over  in  despair,  or  that  some  res- 
cue might  arrive  to  disperse  them.  There  was  a  mo- 
ment at  which  the  latter  seemed  probable. 

The  magistrates,  having  assembled  their  officers,  and 
some  of  the  citizens  who  were  wiUing  to  hazard  them- 
selves for  the  public  tranquillity,  now  sallied  forth  from 
the  tavern  where  they  held  their  sitting,  and  approached 
the  point  of  danger.  Their  officers  went  before  them 
with  links  and  torches,  with  a  herald  to  read  the  riot  act, 
if  necessary.  They  easily  drove  before  tbem  the  out- 
posts and  videttes  of  the  rioters  ;  but  when  they  ap- 
proached the  line  of  guard  which  the  mob,  or  rather,  we 
should  say,  the  conspirators,  had  drawn  across  the  street 
in  the  front  of  the  Luckenbooths,  they  were  received 
with  an   unintermitted   volley  of  stones,   and,   on   theii 


72  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

nearer  approach,  the  pikes,  bayonets,  and  Lochaber  axes, 
of  which  the  populace  had  possessed  themselves,  were 
presented  against  them.  One  of  their  ordinary  officers,  a 
strong  resolute  fellow,  went  forward,  seized  a  rioter,  and 
took  from  him  a  musket ;  but,  being  unsupported,  he  was 
instantly  thrown  on  his  back  in  the  street,  and  disarmed 
in  his  turn.  The  officer  was  too  happy  to  be  permitted 
to  rise  and  run  away  without  receiving  any  farther  injury  ; 
which  afforded  another  remarkable  instance  of  the  mode 
in  which  these  men  had  united  a  sort  of  moderation  to- 
wards all  others,  with  the  most  inflexible  inveteracy  against 
the  object  of  their  resentment.  The  magistrates,  after 
vain  attempts  to  make  themselves  heard  and  obeyed,  pos- 
sessing no  means  of  enforcing  their  authority,  were  con- 
strained to  abandon  the  field  to  the  rioters,  and  retreat  in 
all  speed  from  the  showers  of  missiles  that  whistled  around 
their  ears. 

The  passive  resistance  of  the  Tolbooth  promised  to 
do  more  to  baffle  the  purpose  of  the  mob  than  the  active 
interference  of  the  magistrates.  The  heavy  sledge-ham- 
mers continued  to  din  against  it  without  intermission,  and 
with  a  noise  which,  echoed  from  the  lofty  buildings 
around  the  spot,  seemed  enough  to  have  alarmed  the 
garrison  in  the  Castle.  It  was  circulated  among  the 
rioters,  that  the  troops  would  march  down  to  disperse 
them,  unless  they  could  execute  their  purpose  without 
loss  of  time  ;  or  that,  even  without  quitting  the  fortress, 
the  garrison  might  obtain  the  same  end  by  throwing  a 
bomb  or  two  upon  the  street. 

Urged  by  such  motives  for  apprehension,  they  eagerly 
reheved  each  other  at  the  labour  of  assailing  the  Tol- 
booth door  ;  yet  such  was  its  strength,  tlmt  it  still  defied 
their  efforts.  At  length,  a  voice  was  heard  to  pronounce 
the  words,  "  Try  it  with  fire."  The  rioters  with  an 
unanimous  shout,  called  for  cntnbustibles,  and  as  all  their 
wishes  seemed  to  be  instantly  supplied,  they  were  soon 
in  possession  of  two  or  three  empty  tar-barrels.  A  huge 
red  glaring  bonfire  soon  arose,  close  to  the  door  of  the 
prison,  sending   up  a  tall  column  of  smoke  and  flame 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-I.OTHIAN.  73 

against  its  antique  turrets  and  strongly  grated  windows, 
and  illuminating  the  ferocious  faces  and  wild  gestures  of 
the  rioters  who  surrounded  the  place,  as  well  as  the  pale 
and  anxious  groups  of  those  who,  from  windows  in  the 
vicinage,  watched  the  progress  of  this  alarming  scene. 
The  mob  fed  the  fire  with  whatever  they  could  find  fit 
for  the  purpose.  The  flames  roared  and  crackled  among 
the  heaps  of  nourishment  piled  on  the  fire,  and  a  terrible 
shout  soon  announced  that  the  door  had  kindled,  and  was 
in  the  act  of  being  destroyed.  The  fire  was  suffered  to 
decay,  but,  long  ere  it  was  quite  extinguished,  the  most 
forward  of  the  rioters  rushed,  in  their  impatience,  one 
after  another,  over  its  yet  smouldering  remains.  Thick 
showers  of  sparkles  rose  high  in  the  air,  as  man  after 
man  bounded  over  the  glowing  embers,  and  disturbed 
them  in  their  passage.  It  was  now  obvious  to  Butler, 
and  all  others  who  were  present,  that  the  rioters  would 
be  instantly  in  possession  of  their  victim,  and  have  it  in 
their  power  to  work  their  pleasure  upon  him,  whatever 
that  might  be. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  evil  you  teach  us,  v.e  will  execute  ;    and  it  shall  go  hard  but  we  will 
better  the  instruction.  Merchant  of  Venice. 

The  unhappy  object  of  this  remarkable  disturbance 
had  been  that  day  dehvered  from  the  apprehension  of  a 
public  execution  ;  and  his  joy  was  the  greater,  as  he  had 
some  reason  to  question  whether  government  would  have 
run  the  risk  of  unpopularity  by  interfering  in  his  favour, 
after  he  had  been  legally  convicted,  by  the  verdict  of  a 
jury,  of  a  crime  so  very  obnoxious.  Relieved  from  this 
doubtful  state  of  mind,  his  heart  was  merry  within  him, 
and  he  thought,  in  the  emphatic  words  of  Scripture  on  a 

7       VOL.    I. 


74  TALES    OF    MY    XANDLOBU. 

similar  occasion,  that  surely  the  bitterness  of  death  was 
passed.  Some  of  his  friends,  however,  who  had  watch- 
ed the  manner  and  behaviour  of  the  crowd  when  they 
were  made  acquainted  with  the  reprieve,  were  of  a  dif- 
ferent opinion.  They  augured,  from  the  unusual  stern- 
ness and  silence  with  which  they  bore  their  disappoint- 
ment, that  the  populace  nourished  some  scheme  of  sudden 
and  desperate  vengeance,  and  they  desired  Porteous  to 
lose  no  time  in  petitioning  the  proper  authorities,  that  he 
might  be  conveyed  to  the  Castle  under  a  sufficient  guard, 
to  remain  tliere  in  security  until  his  ultimate  fate  should 
be  determined.  Habituated,  however,  by  his  office,  to 
despise  and  overawe  the  rabble  of  the  city,  Porteous 
could  not  suspect  them  of  an  attempt  so  audacious  as  to 
storm  a  strong  and  defensible  prison  ;  and,  despising  the 
advice  by  which  he  might  have  been  saved,  he  spent  the 
afternoon  of  the  eventful  day  in  giving  an  entertainment 
to  some  friends  who  visited  him  in  jail,  several  of  whom, 
by  the  indulgence  of  the  Captain  of  the  Tolbooth,  with 
whom  he  had  an  old  intimacy,  arising  from  their  official 
connection,  were  even  permitted  to  remain  to  supper  with 
him,  though  contrary  to  the  rules  of  the  jail. 

It  was,  therefore,  in  the  hour  of  unalloyed  mirth,  w'hen 
this  unfortunate  wretch  was  *'  full  of  bread,"  hot  with 
wine,  and  high  in  mistimed  and  ill-grounded  confidence, 
and,  alas  !  with  all  his  sins  full  blown,  when  the  first  dis- 
tant shouts  of  the  rioters  mingled  with  the  song  of  merri- 
ment and  intemperance.  The  hurried  call  of  the  jailor 
to  the  guests,  requiring  them  instantly  to  depart,  and  his 
yet  more  hasty  intimation  that  a  dreadful  and  determined 
mob  had  possessed  then:jselves  of  the  city  gates  and 
guard-house,  were  the  first  explanation  of  these  fearful 
clamours. 

Porteous  might,  however,  have  eluded  the  fury  from 
which  the  force  of  authority  could  not  protect  him,  had 
he  thought  of  slipping  on  some  disguise,  and  leaving  the 
prison  along  with  his  guests.  It  is  probable  that  the 
jailor  might  have  connived  at  his  escape,  or  even  that,  in 
the  hurry   of  this   alarming  contingency,   he  might   not 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAX.  75 

liave  observed  it.  But  Porteous  and  his  friends  alike 
wanted  presence  of  mind  to  suggest  or  execute  such  a 
plan  of  escape.  The  former,  in  a  state  resembling  stu- 
pefaction, awaited  in  his  apartment  the  termination  of  the 
enterprize  of  the  rioters,  and  the  latter  hastily  fled  from 
a  place  where  their  own  safety  seemed  compromised. 
The  cessation  of  the  clang  of  tlie  instruments  with  which 
they  had  at  first  attempted  to  force  the  door,  gave  him 
momentary  relief.  The  flattering  hopes,  that  the  milita- 
ry had  marched  into  the  city,  either  from  the  Castle  or 
from  the  suburbs,  and  that  the  rioters  were  intimidated 
and  dispersing,  were  soon  destroyed  by  the  broad  and 
glaring  light  of  the  flames,  which,  illuminating  through 
the  grated  w^indow  every  corner  of  his  apartment,  plainly 
showed  that  the  mob,  determined  on  their  fatal  purpose, 
had  adopted  a  means  of  forcing  entrance  equally  despe- 
rate and  certain. 

The  sudden  glare  of  light  suggested  to  the  stupified 
and  astonished  object  of  popular  hatred  the  possibility  of 
concealment  or  escape.  To  rush  to  the  chimney,  to  as- 
cend it  at  the  risk  of  sufibcation,  was  the  only  means 
which  seemed  to  have  occurred  to  him  ;  but  his  progress 
was  speedily  stopped  by  one  of  those  iron  gratings,  which 
are,  for  the  sake  of  security,  usually  placed  across  the 
vents  of  buildings  designed  for  imprisonment.  The  bars, 
however,  which  impeded  his  farther  progress,  served  to 
support  him  in  the  situation  which  he  had  gained,  and  he 
seized  them  with  the  tenacious  grasp  of  one  who  esteem- 
ed himself  clinging  to  his  last  hope  of  existence.  The 
lurid  light,  which  had  filled  the  apartment,  lowered  and 
died  away  ;  the  sound  of  shouts  was  heard  within  the  walls, 
and  on  the  narrow  and  v.inding  stair,  which,  cased  within 
one  of  the  turrets,  gave  access  to  the  upper  apartments 
of  the  prison.  The  huzza  of  the  rioters  was  answered 
by  a  shout  wild  and  desperate  as  their  own,  the  cry, 
namely,  of  the  imprisoned  felons,  who,  expecting  to  be 
liberated  in  the  general  confusion,  welcoaied  the  mob  as 
their  dehverers.  By  some  of  these  the  apartment  of 
Porteous  was  pointed  out  to  his  enemies.     The  obstacle 


76  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

of  the  lock  and  bolts  was  soon  overcome,  and  from  his 
hiding-place  the  unfortunate  man  heard  his  enemies 
search  every  corner  of  the  apartment,  with  oaths  and 
maledictions  which  would  but  shock  the  reader  if  we 
recorded  them,  but  which  served  to  prove,  could  it  have 
admitted  of  doubt,  the  settled  purpose  of  soul  with  which 
they  sought  his  destruction. 

A  place  of  concealment  so  obvious  to  suspicion  and 
scrutiny  as  that  which  Porteous  had  chosen,  could  not 
long  screen  him  from  detection.  He  was  dragged  from  his 
lurking-place,  with  a  violence  which  seemed  to  argue  an 
intention  to  put  him  to  death  on  the  spot.  More  than  one 
weapon  was  directed  towards  him,  when  one  of  the  rioters, 
the  same  whose  female  disguise  had  been  particularly  no- 
ticed by  Butler,  interfered  in  an  authoritative  tone.  "  Are 
you  mad  *?"  he  said,  "  or  would  ye  execute  an  act  of  jus- 
tice as  if  it  were  a  crime  and  a  cruelty  '?  The  sacrifice  will 
lose  half  its  savour  if  we  do  not  offer  it  at  the  very  horns 
of  the  altar.  We  will  have  him  die  where  a  murderer 
should  die,  on  the  common  gibbet — We  will  have  him 
die  where  he  spilt  the  blood  of  so  many  innocents  !" 

A  loud  shout  of  applause  followed  the  proposal,  and 
the  cry,  "  To  the  gallows  with  the  murderer  ! — To  the 
Grass-market  with  him  !"  echoed  on  all  hands. 

"  Let  no  man  hurt  him,"  continued  the  speaker  ;  "  let 
him  make  his  peace  with  God,  if  he  can  ;  we  will  not 
kill  both  his  soul  and  body." 

"  What  time  did  he  gi'e  better  folk  for  preparing  their 
account*?"  answered  several  voices,  "  Let  us  mete  to 
him  with  the  same  measure  he  gie'd  to  them." 

But  the  opinion  of  the  spokesman  better  suited  the 
temper  of  those  he  addressed,  a  temper  rather  stubborn 
than  impetuous,  and  desirous  of  imposing  upon  their 
cruel  and  revengeful  action  a  show  of  justice  and  mode- 
ration. 

For  an  instant  this  man  quitted  the  prisoner,  whom  he 
consigned  to  a  selected  guard,  with  instructions  to  permit 
him  to  give  his  money  and  property  to  whomsoever  he 
pleased.     A  person  confined  in  the  jail  for  debt  received 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAX.  77 

this  last  deposit  from  the  trembling  hand  of  the  victim,  who 
was  at  the  same  time  permitted  to  make  some  other  brief 
arrangements  to  meet  his  approaching  fate.  The  felons, 
and  all  others  who  wished  to  leave  the  jail,  were  now  at 
full  liberty  to  do  so  ;  not  that  their  liberation  made  any 
part  of  the  settled  purpose  of  the  rioters,  but  it  followed 
as  almost  a  necessary  consequence  of  their  forcing  the 
jail  doors. — With  wild  cries  of  jubilee  they  joined  the 
mob,  or  disappeared  among  the  narrow  lanes  to  seek  out 
the  concealed  receptacles  of  vice  and  infamy,  where 
they  were  accustomed  to  lurk  and  shroud  themselves 
from  justice.  Two  persons,  a  man  about  fifty  years  old, 
and  a  girl  about  eighteen,  were  all  who  continued  within 
the  fatal  walls,  excepting  two  or  three  debtors,  who  pro- 
bably saw  no  advantage  in  attempting  their  escape.  The 
persons  we  have  mentioned  remained  in  the  strong- 
room of  the  prison,  now  deserted  by  all  others.  One  of 
their  late  companions  in  misfortune  called  out  to  the  man 
to  make  his  escape,  in  the  tone  of  an  acquaintance. 
"  Rin  for  h,  RatclifFe — the  road's  clear." 

"  It  may  be  sae,  Wilhe,"  answered  RatclifFe,  compo- 
sedly, "  but  I  have  ta'en  a  fancy  to  leave  afF  trade,  and 
set  up  for  an  honest  man." 

"  Stay  there,  then,  and  be  hanged  for  a  donnard  auld 
deevil,"  said  the  other,  and  ran  dow^n  the  prison  stair. 

The  person  whom  we  have  distinguished  as  one  of  the 
most  active  rioters,  w^as  about  the  same  time  at  the  ear  of 
the  young  woman.  "  Fly,  Effie,  fly  !"  was  all  he  had 
time  to  whisper.  She  turned  towards  him  an  eye  of 
mingled  fear,  affection,  and  upbraiding,  all  contending 
with  a  sort  of  stupified  surprise.  He  again  repeated, 
"  Fly,  Effie,  fly,  for  the  sake  of  all  that's  good  and  dear 
to  ye."  Again  she  gazed  on  him,  but  was  unable  to  an- 
swer. A  loud  noise  was  now  heard,  and  the  name  of 
Madge  Wildfire  was  repeatedly  called  from  the  bottom  of 
the  staircase." 

"  1  am  coming, — I  am  coming,"  said  the  person  who 
answered  to  that  appellative  ;  and  then  reiterating  hastily, 

7*      VOL.    I. 


78  TALES    OF   MY  lAXDLORD, 

**  For  God's  sake — for  your  own  sake — for  my  sake,  f^y, 
or  they'll  take  your  life  !"  he  left  the  strong-room. 

The  girl  gazed  after  him  for  a  moment,  and  after 
faintly  muttering,  "  Better  tyne  life,  since  tint  is  gude 
fame,"  sh  sunk  her  head  upon  her  hand,  and  remained, 
seeminj^lj ,  unconscious  as  a  statue,  of  the  noise  and  tu- 
mult which  passed  around  her. 

That  tumult  was  now  transferred  from  the  inside  to 
the  outside  of  the  Tolbooth.  The  mob  had  brought 
their  destined  victim  forth,  and  were  about  to  conduct 
him  to  the  common  place  of  execution,  which  they  had 
fixed  as  the  scene  of  his  death.  The  leader  whom  they 
distinguished  by  the  name  of  Madge  Wildfire,  had  been 
summoned  to  assist  at  the  procession  by  the  impatient 
shouts  of  his  confederates. 

"  I  will  ensure  you  five  hundred  pounds,"  said  the 
unhappy  man,  grasping  Wildfire's  hand, — ''  five  hundred 
pounds  for  to  save  my  life." 

The  other  answered  in  the  same  under-tone,  and  re- 
turning his  grasp  with  one  equally  convulsive,  "  Five 
hundred-weight  of  coined  gold  should  not  save  you — 
Remember  Wilson." 

A  deep  pause  of  a  minute  ensued,  when  Wildfire  add- 
ed, in  a  more  composed  tone,  "  Make  your  peace  with 
Heaven — Where  is  the  clergyman  .'"' 

Butler,  who,  in  great  terror  and  anxiety,  had  been  de- 
tained within  a  few  yards  of  the  Tolbooth  door,  to  wait 
the  event  of  the  search  after  Porteous,  was  now  brought 
forward,  and  commanded  to  walk  by  the  prisoner's  side, 
and  to  prepare  him  for  immediate  death.  His  answer 
was  a  supplication  that  the  rioters  would  consider  what 
they  did.  "  You  are  neither  judges  nor  jury,"  said  he. 
"  You  cannot  have,  by  the  laws  of  God  or  man,  power 
to  take  away  the  life  of  a  human  creature,  however  de- 
serving he  may  be  of  death.  If  it  is  murder  even  in  a 
lawful  magistrate  to  execute  an  offender  otherwise  than  in 
the  place,  time,  and  manner,  which  his  sentence  prescribes, 
what  must  it  be  in  you,  who  have  no  warrant  for  your  in- 
terference but  your  own  wills '?    In  the  name  of  Him  who 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  7d 

is  all  Mercy  !  show  mercy  to  this  unhappy  man,  and  do 
not  dip  your  hands  in  his  blood,  nor  rush  into  the  very 
crime  which  you  are  desirous  of  avenging." 

"  Cut  your  sermon  short — you  are  not  in  your  pulpit," 
answered  one  of  the  rioters. 

"  ]f  we  hear  more  of  your  clavers,"  said  another, 
"  we  are  like  to  hang  you  up  beside  him." 

"  Peace,  hush  !"  said  Wildfire.  "  Do  the  good  man 
no  violence — he  discharges  his  conscience,  and  1  like  him 
the  better." 

He  then  addressed  Butler.  "  Now,  sir,  we  have  pa- 
tiently heard  you,  and  we  just  wish  you  to  understand,  in 
the  way  of  answer,  that  you  may  as  well  argue  to  the 
ashler-work  and  iron-staunchels  of  the  Tolbooth,  as 
think  to  change  our  purpose — Blood  must  have  blood. 
We  have  sworn  to  each  other  by  the  deepest  oaths  ever 
were  pledged,  that  Porteous  should  die  the  death  he  de- 
serves so  richly ;  therefore,  speak  no  more  to  us,  but 
prepare  him  for  death  as  well  as  the  briefness  of  his 
change  will  permit." 

They  had  suffered  the  unfortunate  Porteous  to  put  on 
his  night-gown  and  slippers,  as  he  had  thrown  off  his 
coat  and  shoes,  in  order  to  facilitate  his  attempted  escape 
up  the  chimney.  In  this  garb  he  was  now  mounted  on 
the  hands  of  two  of  the  rioters,  clasped  together,  so  as  to 
form  what  is  called  in  Scotland,  "  The  King's  Cushion." 
Butler  was  placed  close  to  his  side,  and  repeatedly  urged 
to  perform  a  duty  always  the  most  painful  which  can  be 
imposed  upon  a  clergyman  deserving  of  the  name,  and  now 
rendered  more  so  by  the  peculiar  and  horrid  circumstan- 
ces of  the  criminal's  case.  Porteous  at  first  uttered 
some  supplications  for  mercy,  but  when  he  found  that 
there  was  no  chance  that  these  would  be  attended  to,  his 
military  education,  and  the  natural  stubbornness  of  his 
disposition,  combined  to  support  his  spirits. 

"  Are  you  prepared  for  this  dreadful  end  9"  said  But- 
ler, in  a  faltering  voice.  "  O  turn  to  Him,  in  whose  eyes 
time  and  space  have  no  existence,  and  to  whom  a  few 
minutes  are  as  a  Hfe-time.  and  a  life-time  as  a  minute." 


80  TALES    OF   MY   JLAIVDLORD. 

"  I  believe  I  know  what  you  would  say,"  said  Porte- 
ous,  sullenly.  "  I  was  bred  a  soldier  ;  if  they  will  mur- 
der me  without  time  for  repentance,  let  my  sins,  as  well 
as  my  blood,  lie  at  their  door." 

"  Who  was  it,"  said  the  stern  voice  of  Wildfire, 
"  that  said  to  Wilson  at  this  very  spot,  when  he  could  not 
pray,  owing  to  the  galling  agony  of  his  fetters,  that  his 
pains  would  soon  be  over'? — I  say  to  you  to  take  your 
own  tale  home  ;  and  if  you  cannot  profit  by  the  good 
man's  lessons,  blame  not  them  that  are  more  merciful  to 
you  than  you  were  to  others." 

The  procession  now  moved  forward  with  a  slow  and 
determined  pace.  It  was  enlightened  by  many  blazing 
links  and  torches  ;  for  the  actors  of  this  work,  far  from 
affecting  any  secrecy  on  the  occasion,  seemed  even 
to  court  observation.  Their  principal  leaders  kept 
close  to  the  person  of  the  prisoner,  whose  pallid  yet 
stubborn  features  w^ere  seen  distinctly  by  the  torch- 
light, as  his  person  was  raised  considerably  above  the 
concourse  which  thronged  around  him.  Those  who 
bore  swords,  muskets,  and  battle-axes,  marched  on  each 
side,  as  if  forming  a  regular  guard  to  the  procession. 
The  windows,  as  they  went  along,  were  filled  with  the 
inhabitants,  whose  slumbers  had  been  broken  by  the  un- 
usual disturbance.  Some  of  the  spectators  muttered 
accents  of  encouragement,  but  in  general  they  were  so 
much  appalled  by  a  sight  so  strange  and  audacious,  that 
they  looked  on  with  a  sort  of  stupified  astonishment. 
No  one  offered,  by  act  or  word,  the  slightest  interruption. 

The  rioters,  on  their  part,  continued  to  act  with  the 
same  air  of  deliberate  confidence  and  security  which  had 
marked  all  their  proceedings.  When  the  object  of  their 
resentment,  dropped  one  of  his  slippers,  they  stopped, 
sought  for  it,  and  replaced  it  upon  his  foot  with  great  de- 
liberation. As  they  descended  the  Bow  towards  the 
fatal  spot  where  they  designed  to  complete  their  purpose, 
it  was  suggested  that  there  should  be  a  rope  kept  in  read- 
iness. For  this  purpose  the  booth  of  a  man  who  dealt 
in  cordage  was  forced  open,  a  coil  of  rope  fit  for  their 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-tOTHIAN.  81 

object  was  selected  to  serve  as  a  halter,  and  the  dealer 
next  morning  found  that  a  guinea  had  been  left  on  his 
counter  in  exchange  ;  so  anxious  were  the  perpetrators 
of  this  daring  action  to  show  that  they  meditated  not  the 
slightest  wron^  or  infraction  of  law,  excepting  so  far  as 
Porteous  was  himself  concerned. 

Leading,  or  carrying  along  with  them,  in  this  determin- 
ed and  regular  manner,  the  object  of  their  vengeance, 
they  at  length  reached  the  place  of  common  execution, 
the  scene  of  his  crime,  and  destined  spot  of  his  sufferings. 
Several  of  the  rioters  (if  they  should  not  rather  be  de- 
scribed as  conspirators)  endeavoured  to  remove  the  stone 
which  filled  up  the  socket  in  which  the  end  of  the  fatal 
tree  was  sunk  when  it  w^as  erected  for  its  fatal  purpose  ; 
others  sought  for  the  means  of  constructing  a  temporary 
gibbet,  the  place  in  which  the  gallow's  itself  was  deposited 
being  reported  too  secure  to  be  forced,  whhout  much  loss 
of  time.  Butler  endeavoured  to  avail  himself  of  the  de- 
lay afforded  by  these  circumstances,  to  turn  the  people 
from  their  desperate  design.  "  For  God's  sake,"  he  ex- 
claimed, "  remember  it  is  the  image  of  your  Creator 
which  you  are  about  to  deface  in  the  person  of  this  unfor- 
tunate man  !  Wretched  as  he  is,  and  wicked  as  he  may 
be,  he  has  a  share  in  every  promise  of  Scripture,  and 
you  cannot  destroy  him  in  impenitence  without  blotting  his 
name  from  the  Book  of  Life — Do  not  destroy  soul  and 
body  ;  give  time  for  preparation." 

"  What  time  had  they,"  returned  a  stem  voice,  "  whom 
he  murdered  on  this  very  spot  *? — The  laws  both  of  God 
and  man  call  for  his  death." 

"  But  what,  my  friends,"  insisted  Butler,  with  a  gen- 
erous disregard  to  his  own  safety — "  what  hath  constituted 
you  his  judges  9" 

"  We  are  not  his  judges,"  replied  the  same  person  ; 
"  he  has  been  already  judged  and  condemned  by  lawful 
authority.  We  are  those  whom  Heaven,  and  our  right- 
eous anger,  have  stirred  up  to  execute  judgment,  when  a 
corrupt  government  would  have  protected  a  murderer." 


82  TALES    OF    MY    IAN D LORD. 

"  I  am  none,"  said  the  unfortunate  Porteous  ;  "  that 
which  you  charge  upon  me  fell  out  in  self-defence,  in  the 
lawful  exercise  of  my  duty." 

"  Away  with  him — away  with  hira  !"  was  the  general 
cry.  "  Wiiy  do  you  trifle  away  time  in  making  a  gallows  1 
— that  dyester's  pole  is  good  enough  for  the  homicide." 

The  unhappy  man  was  forced  to  his  fate  with  remorse- 
less rapidity.  Butler,  separated  from  him  by  the  press, 
escaped  the  last  horrors  of  his  struggles.  Unnoticed  by 
those  who  had  hitherto  detained  him  as  a  prisoner,  he  fled 
from  the  fatal  spot,  without  much  caring  in  what  direction 
his  course  lay.  A  loud  shout  proclaimed  the  stern  de- 
light with  which  the  agents  of  this  deed  regarded  its  com- 
pletion. Butler  then,  at  the  opening  into  the  low  street 
called  the  Cowgate,  cast  back  a  terrified  glance,  and,  by 
the  red  and  dusky  light  of  the  torches,  he  could  discern  a 
figure  wavering  and  struggling  as  it  hung  suspended  above 
the  heads  of  the  multitude.  The  sight  was  of  a  nature 
to  double  his  horror,  and  to  add  wings  to  his  flight.  The 
street  down  which  he  ran  opens  to  one  of  the  eastern  ports 
or  gates  of  the  city.  Butler  did  not  stop  till  be  reached 
it,  but  found  it  still  shut.  He  waited  nearly  an  hour,  walk- 
ing up  and  down  in  inexpressible  perturbation  of  mind. 
At  length  he  ventured  to  call  out,  and  rouse  the  attention 
of  the  terrified  keepers  of  the  gate,  who  now  found  them- 
selves athberty  to  resume  their  office  without  interruption. 
Butler  requested  them  to  open  the  gate.  They  hesitated. 
He  told  them  his  name  and  occupation. 

"  He  is  a  preacher,"  said  one  ;  "  I  have  heard  him 
preach  in  Haddo's-hole." 

"  A  fine  preaching  has  he  been  at  the  night,"  said 
another  ;  "  but  maybe  least  said  is  sunest  mended." 

Opening  then  the  wicket  in  one  of  the  leaves  of  the 
main-gate,  the  keepers  sufl^ered  Butler  to  depart,  who  has- 
tened to  carry  his  horror  and  fear  from  beyond  the  walls 
of  Edinburgh.  His  first  purpose  was,  instantly  to  take 
the  road  homeward  ;  but  other  fears  and  cares,  connect- 
ed widi  the  news  he  had  learned  in  that  remarkable  day, 
induced  him  to  linger  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Edinburgh 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-iOTHlAX.  CO 

until  daybreak.  More  than  one  group  of  persons  passed 
him  as  he  was  whileing  away  the  hours  of  darkness  that 
yet  remained,  whom,  from  the  stifled  tones  of  their  dis- 
course, the  unwonted  hour  when  they  travelled,  and  the 
hasty  pace  at  which  they  walked,  he  conjectured  to  have 
been  engaged  in  the  late  fatal  transaction. 

Certain  it  was,  that  the  sud^ien  and  total  dispersion  of 
the  rioters,  when  their  vindictive  purpose  was  accoraphsh- 
ed,  seemed  not  the  least  remarkable  feature  of  this  singu- 
lar affair.  In  general,  whatever  may  be  the  impelling 
motive  by  which  a  mob  is  at  first  raised,  the  attainment  of 
their  object  has  usually  been  only  found  to  lead  the  w^y 
to  farther  excesses.  But  not  so  in  tiie  present  case. 
They  seemed  completely  satiated  with  the  vengeance  they 
had  prosecuted  with  such  statmch  and  sagacious  activity. 
When  they  were  fully  satisfied  that  hfe  had  abandoned 
their  victim,  they  dispersed  in  every  direction,  throwing 
down  the  weapons  which  they  had  only  assumed  to  enable 
them  to  carry  through  their  purpose.  At  daybreak  there 
remained  not  the  least  token  of  the  events  of  the  night, 
excepting  the  corpse  of  Porteous,  which  remained  sus- 
pended in  the  place  w^here  he  had  suffered,  and  the  arms 
of  various  kinds  which  the  rioters  had  taken  from  the  city 
guard-house,  and  which  remained  scattered  about  the 
streets  as  they  had  thrown  them  from  their  hands,  when 
the  purpose  for  which  they  had  seized  them  was  accom- 
pHshed. 

The  ordinary  magistrates  of  the  city  resumed  their 
pow  er,  not  without  trembling  at  the  late  experience  of  the 
fragilit)  of  its  tenure.  To  march  troops  into  the  city,  anck 
commence  a  severe  inquiry  into  the  transactions  of  the 
preceding  night,  were  the  first  marks  o(  returning  energy 
which  'hey  displayed.  But  these  events  had  been  con- 
ducted on  so  secure  and  well-calculated  a  plan  of  safety 
and  secrecy,  that  there  was  Uttle  or  nothing  learncn  to 
throw  biht  upon  the  authors  or  principal  actors  in  a  scheme 
so  audacious.  An  express  was  despatched  to  London 
with  the  tidings,  where  they  excited  great  indignation  and 
surprise  in  the  council  of  regency,  and  particularly  in  the 


84  TALES    OF   MY   LANDLORD. 

bosom  of  Queen  Caroline,  who  considered  her  own  au- 
thority as  exposed  to  contempt  by  the  success  of  this 
singular  conspiracy.  Nothing  was  spoken  of  for  some  time 
save  the  measure  of  vengeance  which  should  be  taken, 
not  only  on  the  actors  of  this  tragedy,  so  soon  as  they 
should  be  discovered,  but  upon  the  magistrates  who  had 
sUiTered  it  to  take  place,  and  u])on  the  city  which  had  been 
the  scene  where  it  was  exhibited.  Upon  this  occasion,  it 
is  still  recorded  in  popular  tradition,  that  her  Majesiy,  in 
the  height  of  her  displeasure,  told  the  celebrated  John, 
Duke  of  Argyle,  that,  sooner  than  subiiiit  to  such  an  in- 
sult, she  would  make  Scotland  a  hujiling-neld.  "  In  that 
case,  madam,"  answered  that  high-spirited  nobleman,  with 
a  profound  bow,  '*  1  will  take  leave  of  your  Majesty,  and 
go  down  to  my  own  country  to  get  my  hounds  ready." 

The  import  of  the  reply  had  more  than  met  the  car  ; 
and  as  most  of  the  Scottish  xiOuility  and  gentry  seemed 
actuated  by  the  same  national  spirit,  the  royal 'diipleasure 
was  necessarily  checked  in  mid-voUey,  and  milder  courses 
were  recommended  and  adopted,  to  some  of  which  we 
may  hereafter  have  occasion  to  advert. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Arthur's  Seat  shall  be  my  bed, 
The  sheets  shall  never  be  press'd  by  me  ; 

St.  Anton's  well  shall  be  my  drink, 
Sin  my  true-love's  forsaken  me. 

If  I  were  to  choose  a  spot  from  which  the  rising  or 
setting  sun  could  be  seen  to  the  greatest  possible  advan- 
tage, it  would  be  that  wild  walk  winding  around  the  foot 
of  the  high  belt  of  semi-circular  rocks,  called  Salisbury 
Crags,  unri  marking  the  verge  of  the  steep  descent  which 
slopes  down  into  the  glen  on  the  south-eastern  side  of  the 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  85 

city  of  Edinburgh.  The  prospect,  in  its  general  outline, 
commands  a  close-built,  high-piled  city,  stretching  itself 
out  beneath  in  a  form,  which,  to  a  romantic  imagination, 
may  be  supposed  to  represent  that  of  a  dragon  ;  now,  a 
noble  arm  of  the  sea,  with  its  rocks,  isles,  distant  shores, 
and  boundary  of  mountains  ;  and  now  a  fair  and  fertile 
champaign  country,  varied  with  hill,  dale,  and  rock,  and 
skirted  by  the  varied  and  picturesque  ridge  of  the  Pent- 
land  Mountains.  But  as  the  path  gently  circles  around 
the  base  of  the  cliffs,  the  prospect,  composed  as  it  is  of 
these  enchanting  and  subhme  subjects,  changes  at  every 
step,  and  presents  them  blended  with  or  divided  from  each 
other,  in  every  possible  variety  which  can  gratify  the  eye 
and  the  imagination.  When  a  piece  of  scenery  so  beau- 
tiful, yet  so  varied, — so  exching  by  its  intricacy,  and  yet 
so  sublime, — is  Hghted  up  by  the  tints  of  morning  or  of 
evening,  and  displays  all  that  variety  of  shadowy  depth, 
exchanged  with  partial  brilliancy,  which  gives  character 
even  to  the  tamest  of  landscapes,  the  effect  approaches 
nearer  to  enchantment.  This  path  used  to  be  my  favour- 
ite evening  and  morning  resort,  when  engaged  with  a  fa- 
vourite author,  or  new  subject  of  study.  It  is,  I  am  in- 
formed, now  become  totally  impassible  ;  a  circumstance 
which,  if  true,  reflects  httle  credit  on  the  taste  of  the 
Good  Town  or  its  leaders.* 

It  was  from  this  fascinating  path,- — the  scene  to  me  of 
so  much  delicious  musing,  when  life  was  young  and  prom- 
ised to  be  happy,  that  I  have  been  unable  to  pass  it  over 
without  an  episodical  description — it  was,  I  say,  from  this 
romantic  path  that  Butler  saw  the  morning  arise  the  day 
after  the  murder  of  Porteous.  It  was  possible  for  him 
with  ease  to  hav^e  found  a  much  shorter  road  to  the  house 
to  which  he  was  directing  his  course,  and,  in  fact,  that 
which  he  chose  was  extremely  circuitous.  But  to  com- 
pose his  own  spirits,  as  well  as  to  while  away  the  time, 
until  a  proper  hour  for  visiting  the  family  without  surprise 


•  The  path  has  been  of  late  completely  repaired. 
VOL.    I. 


86  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

or  disturbance,  he  was  induced  to  extend  bis  circuit  by 
the  foot  of  the  rocks,  and  to  hnger  upon  his  way  until  the 
morning  should  be  considerably  advanced.  While,  now 
standing  with  his  arms  across,  and  waiting  the  slow  pro- 
gress of  the  sun  above  the  horizon,  now  sitting  upon  one 
of  the  numerous  fragments  which  storms  had  detached 
from  the  rocks  above  him,  he  is  meditating,  alternately, 
upon  the  horrible  catastrophe  which  he  had  witnessed, 
and  upon  the  melancholy,  and  to  him  most  interesting, 
news  which  he  had  learned  at  Saddletree's,  we  will  give 
the  reader  to  understand  who  Butler  was,  and  by  what 
his  fate  was  connected  with  that  of  Effie  Deans,  the  un- 
fortunate handmaiden  of  the  careful  ivlrs.  Saddletree. 

Reuben  Butler  was  of  English  extraction,  though  born 
in  Scotland.  Flis  grandfather  had  been  a  trooper  in  Monk's 
army,  and  one  of  that  party  of  dismounted  dragoons  which 
formed  the  forlorn-hope  at  the  storm  of  Dundee  in  ]651. 
Stephen  Butler  (called,  from  his  talents  in  reading  and 
expounding.  Scripture  Stephen,  and  Bible  Butler)  was  a 
staunch  independent,  and  received  in  its  fullest  compre- 
liension  the  promise  that  the  saints  should  inherit  the  earth. 
As  hard  knocks  were  what  had  chiefly  fallen  to  his  share 
hitherto  in  the  division  of  this  common  property,  he  lost 
not  the  opportunity  which  the  storm  and  plunder  of  a  com- 
mercial place  afforded  him,  to  appropriate  as  large  a  share 
of  the  better  things  of  this  world  as  he  could  possibly 
compass.  It  would  seem  that  he  had  succeeded  indiffer- 
ently well,  for  his  exterior  circumstances  appear,  in  con- 
sequence of  this  event,  to  have  been  much  mended. 

The  troop  to  which  he  belonged  was  quartered  at  the 
village  of  Dalkeith,  as  forming  the  body-guard  of  Monk, 
who,  in  the  capacity  of  general  for  the  Commonwealth, 
resided  in  the  nei2;hbourin2;  castle.  When,  on  the  eve  of 
the  Restoration,  the  general  commenced  his  march  from 
Scotland,  a  measure  pregnant  with  such  important  con- 
sequences, he  new-modelled  his  troops,  and  more  es- 
pecially those  about  his  person,  in  order  that  they  might 
consist  entirely  of  individuals  devoted  to  himself. 
Upon    this   occasion    Scripture    Stephen    was    weighed 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAX.  b7 

in  the  balance,  and  found  wanting.  It  was  supposed  he 
felt  no  call  to  any  expedition  which  might  endanger  the 
reign  of  the  military  sainthood,  and  that  he  did  not  con- 
sider himself  as  free  in  conscience  to  join  with  any  party 
which  might  ultimately  acknowledge  the  interest  of 
Charles  Stuart,  the  son  of  '*  the  last  man,"  as  Charles  I. 
was  familiarly  and  irreverently  termed  by  them  in  their 
common  discourse,  as  well  as  in  their  more  elaborate  pre- 
dications and  harangues.  As  the  time  did  not  admit  of 
cashiering  such  dissidents,  Stephen  Butler  w^as  only  advis- 
ed in  a  friendly  way  to  give  up  his  horse  and  accoutre- 
ments to  one  of  Middleton's  old  troopers,  who  possessed 
an  accommodating  conscience  of  a  military  stamp,  and 
which  squared  itself  chiefly  upon  those  of  the  colonel  and 
paymaster.  As  this  hint  came  recommended  by  a  certain 
sum  of  arrears  presently  payable,  Stephen  had  carnal 
wisdom  enough  to  embrace  the  proposal,  and  with  great 
indifference  saw  his  old  corps  depart  for  Coldstream,  on 
their  route  for  the  south,  to  estabhsh  the  tottering  govern- 
ment of  England  on  a  new  basis. 

The  zone  of  the  ex-trooper,  to  use  Horace's  phrase, 
was  weighty  enough  to  purchase  a  cottage  and  two  or 
three  fields,  (still  known  by  the  name  of  Beersheba,)  with- 
in about  a  Scottish  mile  of  Dalkeith  ;  and  there  did  Ste- 
phen estabhsh  himself  with  a  youthful  helpmate,  chosen 
out  of  the  said  village,  whose  disposition  to  a  comfortable 
settlement  on  this  side  of  the  grave  reconciled  her  to  the 
gruff  manners,  serious  temper,  and  weather-beaten  feat- 
ures of  the  martial  enthusiast.  Stephen  did  not  long  sur- 
vive the  falhng  on  "  evil  days  and  evil  tongues,"  of  which 
Milton,  in  the  same  predicament,  so  mournfully  complains. 
At  his  death  his  consort  remained  'an  early  widow,  with  a 
male  child  of  three  years  old,  which,  in  the  sobriety 
wherewith  it  demeaned  itself,  in  the  old-fashioned  and 
even  grim  cast  of  its  features,  and  in  its  sententious  mode 
of  expressing  itself,  would  sufficiently  have  vindicated 
the  honour  of  the  widow  of  Beersheba,  had  any  one 
thought  proper  to  challenge  the  babe's  descent  from  Bible 
Butler. 


88  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

Butler's  principles  had  not  descended  to  his  family,  or 
extended  themselves  among  his  neighbours.  The  air  of 
Scotland  was  ahen  to  the  growth  of  independence,  how- 
ever favourable  to  fanaticism  under  other  colours.  But, 
nevertheless,  they  were  not  forgotten  ;  and  a  certain 
neighbouring  laird,  who  piqued  himself  upon  the  loyalty 
of  his  principles  "  in  the  worst  of  times,"  though  I  never 
heard  they  exposed  him  to  more  peril  than  that  of  a 
broken  head,  or  a  night's  lodging  in  the  main  guard,  when 
wine  and  cavaherism  predominated  in  his  upper  story, 
had  found  it  a  convenient  thing  to  rake  up  all  matter  of 
accusation  against  the  deceased  Stephen.  In  this  enu- 
meration his  religious  principles  made  no  small  figure,  as, 
indeed,  they  must  have  seemed  of  the  most  exaggerated 
enormity  to  one  whose  own  were  so  slight  and  so  faintly 
traced,  as  to  be  well  nigh  imperceptible.  In  these  cir- 
cumstances, poor  widow  Butler  was  supplied  with  her  full 
proportion  of  fines  for  non-conformity,  and  all  the  other 
oppressions  of  the  time,  until  Beersheba  was  fairly 
wrenched  out  of  her  hands,  and  became  the  property  of 
the  laird  who  had  so  wantonly,  as  it  had  hitherto  appear- 
ed, persecuted  this  forlorn  woman.  When  his  pur- 
pose was  fairly  achieved,  he  showed  some  remorse  or 
moderation,  or  whatever  the  reader  may  please  to  term  it, 
in  permitting  her  to  occupy  her  husband's  cottage,  and 
cultivate,  on  no  very  heavy  terms,  a  croft  of  land  adjacent. 
Her  son,  Benjamin,  in  the  meanwhile,  grew  up  to  man's 
estate,  and,  moved  by  that  impulse  which  makes  men  seek 
marriage,  even  when  its  end  can  only  be  the  perpetuation 
of  misery,  he  married  and  brought  a  wife,  and,  eventual- 
ly, a  son,  Reuben,  to  share  the  poverty  of  Beersheba. 

The  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes  had  hitherto  been  moder- 
ate in  his  exactions,  perhaps  because  he  was  ashamed  to 
tax  too  highly  the  miserable  means  of  support  which  re- 
mained to  the  widow  Butler.  But  when  a  stout  active 
young  fellow  appeared  as  the  labourer  of  the  croft  in  ques- 
tion, Dumbiedikes  began  to  think  so  broad  a  pair  of  shoul- 
ders might  bear  an  additional  burthen.  He  regulated, 
indeed,  his  management  of  his  dependants  (who   fortu- 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-IOTHIAX.  89 

nately  were  but  few  in  number)  much  upon  the  principle 
of  the  carters  whom  he  observed  loading  their  carts  at  a 
neighbouring  coal-hill,  and  who  never  failed  to  clap  an  ad- 
ditional brace  of  hundred-weights  on  their  burthen,  so 
soon  as  by  any  means  they  had  compassed  a  new  horse  of 
somewhat  superior  strength  to  that  which  had  broken  down 
the  day  before.  However  reasonable  this  practice  ap- 
peared to  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes,  he  ought  to  have 
observed,  that  it  may  be  overdone,  and  that  it  infers,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  the  destruction  and  loss  of  both  horse, 
cart,  and  loading.  Even  so  it  befell  when  the  additional 
'•  prestations"  came  to  be  demanded  of  Benjamin  Butler. 
A  man  of  few  words,  and  few  ideas,  but  attached  to 
Beerslieba  with  a  feeling  Hke  tliat  which  a  vegetable  may 
be  supposed  to  entertain  to  the  spot  in  which  it  chances  to 
be  planted,  he  neither  remonstrated  with  the  Laird,  nor 
endeavoured  to  escape  from  him,  but,  toiling  night  and  day 
to  accomphsh  the  terms  of  his  task-master,  fell  into  a 
burning  fever  and  died.  His  wife  did  not  long  survive 
him,  and,  as  if  it  had  been  the  fate  of  this  family  to  be 
left  orphans,  our  Reuben  Butler  was,  about  the  year 
1704-5,  left  in  the  same  circumstances  in  which  his  father 
had  been  placed,  and  under  the  same  guardianship,  being 
that  of  his  grandmother,  the  widow  of  Monk's  old  trooper. 
The  same  prospect  of  misery  hung  over  the  head  of 
another  tenant  of  this  hard-hearted  lord  of  the  soil.  This 
was  a  tough  true-blue  presbyterian,  called  Deans,  who, 
though  most  obnoxious  to  the  Laird  on  account  of  princi- 
ples in  church  and  state,  contrived  to  maintain  his  ground 
upon  the  estate  by  regular  payment  of  mail  duties,  kain, 
arriage,  carriage,  dry  multure,  lock,  gowpen,  and  knave- 
ship,  and  all  the  various  exactions  now  commuted  for 
money,  and  summed  up  in  the  emphatic  word  rknt.  But 
the  years  1700  and  1701,  long  remembered  in  Scotland 
for  dearth  and  general  distress,  subdued  the  stout  heart  of 
the  agricultural  whig.  Citations,  by  the  ground-officer, 
decreets  of  the  Baron  Court,  sequestrations,  poindings  of 
outsight  and  insight,  flew  about  his  ears  as  fast  as  ever  the 

8*       VOL.    I. 


90  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

tory  bullets  whistled  around  those  of  the  Covenanters  at 
Pentland,  Bothvvell  Brigg,  or  Airdmoss.  Struggle  as  he 
might,  and  he  struggled  gallantly,  "  douce  Davie  Deans" 
was  routed  horse  and  foot,  and  lay  at  the  mercy  of  his 
grasping  landlord  just  at  the  time  that  Benjamin  Butler 
died.  The  fate  of  each  family  was  anticipated,  but  they 
who  prophesied  their  expulsion  to  beggary  and  ruin,  were 
disappointed  by  an  accidental  circumstance. 

On  the  very  term-day  when  their  ejection  should  have 
taken  place,  when  all  their  neighbours  were  prepared  to 
pity,  and  not  one  to  assist  them,  the  minister  of  the  parish, 
as  well  as  a  doctor  from  Edinburgh,  received  a  hasty 
summons  to  attend  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes.  Both 
were  surprised  ;  for  his  contempt  for  both  faculties  had 
been  pretty  commonly  his  theme  over  an  extra  bottle,  that 
is  to  say,  at  least  once  every  day.  The  leech  for  the 
soul  and  he  for  the  body  ahghted  in  the  court  of  the  httle 
old  manor-house  at  almost  the  same  time  ;  and' when  they 
had  gazed  a  moment  at  each  other  with  some  surprise, 
both  in  the  same  breath  expressed  their  conviction  that 
Dumbiedikes  must  needs  be  very  ill  indeed,  since  he 
summoned  them  both  to  his  presence  at  once.  Ere  the 
servant  could  usher  them  to  his  apartment,  the  party  was 
augmented  by  a  man  of  law,  Nichil  Novit,  writing  himself 
procurator  before  the  Sheriff-court,  for  in  those  days  there 
were  no  solicitors.  This  latter  personage  was  first  sum- 
moned to  the  apartment  of  the  Laird,  where,  after  some 
short  space,  the  soul-curer  and  the  body-curer  were  invit- 
ed to  join  him. 

Dumbiedikes  had  been  by  this  time  transported  into 
the  best  bed-room,  used  only  upon  occasions  of  death 
and  marriage,  and  called,  from  the  former  of  these  oc- 
cupations, the  dead-room.  There  were  in  this  apartment, 
besides  the  sick  person  himself,  and  Mr.  Novit,  the  son 
and  heir  of  the  patient,  a  tall  gawky  silly-looking  boy  of 
fourteen  or  fifteen,  and  a  housekeeper,  a  good  buxom 
figure  of  a  woman,  betwixt  forty  and  fifty,  who  had  kept 
the  keys  and  managed  matters  at  Dumbiedikes  since  the 
lady's  death.     It  was  to  these  attendants  that  Dumbiedikes 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAX.  91 

addressed  himself  pretty  nearly  in  tliese  words  ;  tempo- 
ral and  spiritual  matters,  the  care  of  his  health  and  his 
affairs,  being  strangely  jumbled  in  a  head  which  was  never 
one  of  the  clearest : 

"  These  are  sair  times  wi'  me,  gentlemen  and  neigh- 
bours !  amaist  as  ill  as  at  the  aughty-nine,  when  I  was 
rabbled  by  the  collegeaners. — They  mistook  me  muckle 
— they  ca'd  me  a  papist,  but  there  was  never  a  papist  bit 
about  me,  minister.- — Jock,  ye'Il  take  warning — it's  a  debt 
we  maun  a'  pay ;  and  there  stands  Nichil  Novit  that  will 
tell  you  I  was  never  gude  at  paying  debts  in  my  life. — Mr. 
Novit,  ye'll  no  forget  to  draw  the  annual  rent  that's  due 
on  the  yerl's  band — if  I  pay  debt  to  other  folk,  I  think 
they  suld  pay  it  to  me — that  equals  aquals. — Jock,  when 
ye  hae  naething  else  to  do,  ye  may  be  aye  sticking  in  a 
tree  ;  it  will  be  growing,  Jock,  when  ye're  sleeping.  My 
father  tauld  me  sae  forty  years  sin',  but  I  ne'er  fand  time 
to  mind  him — Jock,  ne'er  drink  brandy  in  the  morning, 
it  61es  the  stamach  sair  ;  gin  ye  take  a  morning's  draught, 
let  it  be  aqua  mirabilis  ;  Jenny  there  makes  it  week — 
Doctor,  my  breath  is  growing  as  scant  as  a  broken-wind- 
ed piper's,  when  he  has  played  for  four-and-twenty  hours 
at  a  penny -wed  ding — Jenny,  pit  the  cod  aneath  my  head 
— but  it's  a'  needless  ! — Mass  John,  could  ye  think  o' 
rattling  ower  some  bit  short  prayer,  it  wad  do  me  gude 
maybe,  and  keep  some  queer  thoughts  out  o'  my  head. — 
Say  something,  man." 

"  I  cannot  use  a  prayer  like  a  rat-rhyme,"  answered 
the  honest  clergyman  ;  "  and  if  you  would  have  your 
soul  redeemed  hke  a  prey  from  the  fowler.  Laird,  you 
must  needs  show  me  your  state  of  mind." 

"  And  suldna  ye  ken  that  without  my  telling  you  9" 
answered  the  patient.  "  What  have  I  been  paying  sti- 
pend and  teind  parsonage  and  vicarage  for,  ever  sin'  the 
aughty-nine,  an'  I  canna  get  a  spell  of  a  prayer  for't,  the 
only  time  I  ever  asked  for  ane  in  my  life  7 — Gang  awa' 
wi'  your  whiggery,  if  that's  a'  ye  can  do  ;  auld  Curate 
Kilstoup  wad  hae  read  half  the  Prayer-book  to  me  by 


92  TALES    OF    MY   LANDLORD. 

this  time — Awa  w'ye  !— Doctor,  let's  see  if  ye  can  do 
ony  thing  better  for  me." 

The  doctor,  who  had  obtained  some  information  in  the 
meanwhile  from  the  housekeeper  on  the  state  of  his  com- 
plaints, assured  him  the  medical  art  could  not  prolong  his 
life  many  hours. 

"  Then  damn  Mass  John  and  you  baith  !"  cried  the 
furious  and  intractable  patient.  "  Did  ye  come  here  for 
naething  but  to  tell  me  that  ye  canna  help  me  at  the  pinch  *? 
Out  vvi'  them,  Jenny — out  o'  the  house  !  and,  Jock,  my 
curse,  and  the  curse  of  Cromwell  go  wi'  ye,  if  ye  gie 
them  either  fee  or  bountith,  or  sae  muckle  as  a  black  pair 
o'  cheverons." 

The  clergyman  and  doctor  made  a  speedy  retreat  out 
of  the  apartment,  while  Dumbiedikes  fell  into  one  of  those 
transports  of  violent  and  profane  language,  which  had 
procured  him  the  surname  of  Damn-me-dikes — "  Bring 

me  the  brandy  bottle,  Jenny,  ye  b ,"  he  cried,  with 

a  voice  in  which  passion  contended  with  pain.  "  I  can 
die  as  I  have  hved,  without  fashing  ony  o'  them.  But 
there's  ae  thing,"  he  said,  sinking  his  voice — "  there's  ae 
fearful  thing  hings  about  my  heart,  and  an  anker  of  brandy 
winna  wash  it  away — The  Deanses  at  Woodend  ! — I  se- 
questrated them  in  the  dear  years,  and  now  they  are  to 
flitt,  they'll  starve — and  that  Beersheba,  and  that  auld 
trooper's  wife  and  her  oe,  they'll  starve — they'll  starve  ! 
— Look  out,  Jock  ;  what  night  is't  ?" 

'•  Onding  o'  snaw,  father,"  answered  Jock,  after  hav- 
ing opened  the  window,  and  looked  out  with  great  com- 
posure. 

"  They'll  perish  in  the  drifts,"  said  the  expiring  sinner 
— "  they'll  perish  wi'  cauld  ! — but  I'll  be  het  eneugh,  gin 
a'  tales  be  true." 

This  last  observation  was  made  under  breath,  and  in  a 
tone  which  made  the  very  attorney  shudder.  He  tried 
his  hand  at  ghostly  advice,  probably  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  and  recommended,  as  an  opiate  for  the  agonized 
conscience  of  the  laird,  reparation  of  tlie  injuries  he  had 
done  to  these  distressed  families,  which,  he  observed  by 


THE    HEART    OE   MID-LOTHIAN.  93 

the  way,  the  civil  law  called  restitutio  in  integrum.  But 
Mammon  was  struggling  with  Remorse  tor  retaining  his 
place  in  a  bosom  he  had  so  long  possessed  ;  and  he  partly 
succeeded,  as  an  old  tyrant  proves  often  too  strong  for  his 
insurgent  rebels. 

"  f  canna  do't,"  he  answered,  with  a  voice  of  despair. 
"  It  would  kill  me  to  do't — how  can  ye  bid  me  pay  back 
siller,  when  ye  ken  how  I  want  it  ^  or  dispone  Beersheba, 
when  it  lies  sae  weel  into  my  ain  plaid  nuik  1  Nature 
made  Dumbiedikes  and  Beersheba  to  be  ae  man's  land — 
She  did,  by .     Nichil,  it  wad  kill  me  to  part  them." 

"  But  ye  maun  die  whether  or  no,  Laird,"  said  Mr. 
Novit ;  "  and  maybe  ye  wad  die  easier — it's  but  trying, 
I'll  scroll  the  disposition  in  nae  time." 

"  Dinna  speak  o't,  sir,  or  I'll  fling  the  stoup  at  your 
head. — But,  Jock,  lad,  ye  see  how  the  warld  warstles  wi' 
me  on  my  death  bed — Be  kind  to  the  puir  creatures  the 
Deanses  and  the  Butlers — be  kind  to  them,  Jock.  Dinna 
let  the  warld  get  a  grip  o'  ye,  Jock — but  keep  the  gear 
thegither  !  and  whate'er  ye  do,  dispone  Beersheba  at  no 
rate.  Let  the  creatures  stay  at  a  moderate  mailing,  and 
hae  bite  and  soup  ;  it  will  maybe  be  the  better  wi'  your 
father  whare  he's  gaun,  lad." 

After  these  contradictory  instructions,  the  Laird  felt  his 
mind  so  much  at  ease  that  he  drank  three  bumpers  of 
brandy  continuously,  and  "  soughed  awa,"  as  Jenny  ex- 
pressed it,  in  an  attempt  to  sing,  "  De'il  stick  the  minister." 

His  death  made  a  revolution  in  favour  of  the  distressed 
famiHes.  John  Dumbie,  now  Dumbiedikes,  in  his  own 
right,  seemed  to  be  close  and  selfish  enough,  but  wanted 
the  grasping  spirit  and  active  mind  of  his  father  ;  and  his 
guardian  happened  to  agree  with  him  in  opinion,  that  his 
father's  dying  recommendation  should  be  attended  to. 
The  tenants,  therefore,  were  not  actually  turned  out  of 
doors  among  the  snow  wreaths,  and  were  allowed  where- 
with to  procure  butter-milk  and  pease  bannocks,  which 
they  eat  under  the  full  force  of  the  original  malediction. 
The  cottage  of  Deans,  called  Woodend,  was  not  very 
distant  from  that  at  Beersheba.     Formerly  there  had  been 


94  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

little  intercourse  between  the  families.  Deans  was  a 
sturdy  Scotchman,  with  all  sorts  of  prejudices  against  the 
southern,  and  the  spawn  of  the  southern.  Moreover, 
Deans  was,  as  we  have  said,  a  staunch  presbyterian,  of 
the  most  rigid  and  unbending  adherence  to  what  he  con- 
ceived to  be  the  only  possible  straight  line,  as  he  was  wont 
to  express  himself,  between  right-hand  heats  and  ex- 
tremes, and  left-hand  defections  ;  and,  therefore,  he  held 
in  high  dread  and  horror  all  independents,  and  whomso- 
ever lie  supposed  allied  to  them. 

But,  notwitlistanding  these  national  prejudices  and  re- 
ligious professions.  Deans  and  the  widow  Butler  were 
pldced  in  such  a  situation,  as  naturally  created  some  inti- 
macy between  the  families.  They  had  shared  a  common 
danger  and  a  mutual  deliverance.  They  needed  each 
other's  assistance,  like  a  company,  who,  crossing  a  moun- 
tain stream,  are  compelled  to  cling  close  together,  lest 
the  current  should  be  too  powerful  for  any  who  are  not 
thus  supported. 

On  nearer  acquaintance,  too.  Deans  abated  some  of  his 
prejudices.  He  found  Mrs.  Butler,  though  not  thorough- 
ly grounded  in  the  extent  and  bearing  of  the  real  testi- 
mony against  the  defections  of  the  times,  had  no  opinions 
in  favour  of  the  independent  party  ;  neither  was  she  an 
Englishwoman.  Therefore,  it  was  to  be  hoped,  that 
though  she  was  the  widow  of  an  enthusiastic  corporal  of 
Cromvv-ell's  dragoons,  it  was  possible  her  grandson  might 
be  neither  schismatic  nor  anti-national,  two  qualities  con- 
cerning which  Goodman  Deans  had  as  wholesome  a  terror 
as  against  papists  and  malignants.  Above  all,  (for  Douce 
Davie  Deans  had  his  weak  side,)  he  perceived  that  widow 
Butler  looked  up  to  him  with  reverence,  listened  to  his 
advice,  and  compounded  for  an  occasional  fling  at  the 
doctrines  of  her  deceased  husband,  to  which,  as  we  have 
seen,  she  was  by  no  means  warmly  attached,  in  consider- 
ation of  the  valuable  counsels  which  the  presbyterian 
afforded  her  for  the  management  of  her  little  farm. 
These  usually  concluded  with,  "  they  may  do  otherwise 
in  England,  neighbour  Butler,  for  au^ht  I  ken  ;"  or,  "  it 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAX.  95 

may  be  different  in  foreign  parts  ;"  or,  "  they  wha  think 
differentl}'  on  the  great  foundation  of  our  covenanted  re- 
formation, overturning  and  misguggling  the  government 
and  discipline  of  the  kirk,  and  breaking  down  the  carved 
work  of  our  Zion,  might  be  for  sawing  the  craft  wi'  aits  ; 
but  I  say  pease,  pease."  And  as  his  advice  vv^as  shrewd 
and  sensible,  though  conceitedly  given,  it  was  received 
with  gratitude,  and  followed  with  respect. 

The  intercourse  which  took  place  betwixt  the  families 
at  Beersheba  and  Woodend  became  strict  and  intimate, 
at  a  very  early  period,  betwixt  Reuben  Butler,  with  whom 
the  reader  is  ah'eady  in  some  degree  acquainted,  and 
Jeanie  Deans,  the  only  child  of  Douce  Davie  Deans  by 
his  first  wife,  "  that  singular  Christian  woman,"  as  he  was 
wont  to  express  himself,  "  whose  name  was  savoury  to  all 
"^.hat  knew  her  for  a  desirable  professor.  Christian  iVlenzies 
in  Hochmagirdle."  The  manner  of  which  intimacy,  and 
the  consequences  thereof,  we  now  proceed  to  relate. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Reuben  and  Rachel,  though  as  fond  as  doves. 
Were  yet  discreet  and  cautious  in  their  Joves, 
Nor  would  attend  to  Cupid's  wild  commands, 
Till  cool  rellection  bade  them  join  their  hands. 
When  both  were  poor,  they  thought  it  argued  ill 
Of  hasty  love  to  make  tliem  poorer  still." 

Crahbes  Parish  Register. 

While  widow  Butler  and  widower  Deans  struggled 
with  poverty,  and  the  hard  and  sterile  soil  of  those  "  parts 
and  portions"  of  the  lands  of  Dumbiedikes  which  it  was 
tlinir  lot  to  occupy,  it  became  gradually  apparent  that 
Deans  was  to  gain  the  strife,  and  his  ally  in  the  conflict 
Was  to  lose  it.  The  former  was  a  man,  and  not  much 
past  the  prinie  of  life — Mrs.  Butler  a  woman,  and  declin- 


96  TALES    OF    MY   LANDLORD. 

ed  into  the  vale  of  years.  This,  indeed,  ou^ht  in  time  to 
have  been  balanced  by  the  circnmstaiioe,  thai  Reuben 
was  growing  up  to  assist  his  grandniotiier's  labours,  and 
that  Jeanie  Deans,  as  a  girl,  could  be  only  supposed  to 
add  to  her  father's  burthens.  But  Douca  Davie  Deigns 
knew  better  things,  and  so  schooled  and  trained  the  young 
minion,  as  he  called  her,  that  from  the  time  she  could 
walk  upwards,  she  was  daily  employed  in  some  task  or 
other  suitable  to  her  age  and  capacity,  a  circumstance 
which,  added  to  her  father's  daily  instructions  and  lec- 
tures, tended  to  give  her  mind,  even  when  a  chdd,  a  grave, 
serious,  firm,  and  reflecting  cast.  An  uncommonly  siiong 
and  healthy  temperament,  free  from  all  nervous  atfection 
and  every  other  irregularity,  which,  attacking  the  body  in 
its  more  noble  functions,  so  often  influences  the  mind, 
tended  greatly  to  estabhsh  this  firmness,  smiplicity,  and 
decision  of  character. 

On  the  other  hand,  Reuben  was  weak  in  constitution, 
and,  though  not  timid  in  temper,  might  be  safely  pronounc- 
ed anxious,  doubtful,  and  apprehensive.  He  partook  of 
the  temperament  of  his  mother,  who  had  died  of  a  con- 
sumption in  early  age.  He  was  a  pale,  thin,  feeble,  sickly 
boy,  and  somewhat  lame,  from  an  accident  in  early  youth. 
He  was,  besides,  the  child  of  a  doting  grandmother,  whose 
over-solicitous  attention  to  him  soon  taught  him  a  sort  of 
diffidence  in  liimself,  with  a  disposition  to  over-rate  his 
own  importance,  wh'ch  is  one  of  the  very  worst  conse- 
quences that  children  deduce  from  over-indulgence. 

Still,  however,  the  two  children  clung  to  each  other's  • 
society,  not  more  from  hs:bit  than  from  taste.  They  herded 
together  the  handful  of  sheep,  with  the  two  or  three  cows, 
which  their  parents  turned  out  rather  to  seek  food  th^m 
actually  to  feed  upon  the  uninclosed  common  of  Dumbie- 
dikes.  It  was  there  that  the  two  urchins  might  be  seen 
seated  beneath  a  blooming  bush  of  whm.  their  little  round 
faces  laid  close  together  under  the  shadow  of  the  same 
plaid  drawn  over  both  their  heads,  while  the  landscape 
around  was  embrowned  by  an  overshadowing  cloud,  i)ig 
with  the  shower  which  had  driven  the  children  to  shelter. 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-IOTHIAN.  97 

Upon  other  occasions  they  went  together  to  school,  the 
boy  receiving  that  encouragement  and  example  from  his 
companion,  in  crossing  the  little  brooks  which  intersected 
their  path,  and  encountering  cattle,  dogs,  and  other  perils, 
upon  their  journey,  which  the  male  sex  in  such  cases 
usually  consider  it  as  their  prerogative  to  extend  to  the 
weaker.  But  when,  seated  on  the  benches  of  the  school- 
house,  they  began  to  con  their  lessons  together,  Reuben, 
who  was  as  much  superior  to  Jeanie  Deans  in  acuteness 
of  intellect,  as  inferior  to  her  in  firmness  of  constitution, 
^nd  that  insensibility  to  fatigue  and  danger  which  depends 
on  the  conformation  of  the  nerves,  was  able  fully  to  re- 
quite the  kindness  and  countenance  with  which,  in  other 
circumstances,  she  used  to  regard  him.  He  was  decid- 
edly the  best  scholar  at  the  htde  parish  school,  and  so 
gentle  was  his  temper  and  disposition,  that  he  was  rather 
admired  than  envied  b}  the  little  mob  who  occujDied  the 
noisy  mansion,  although  he  was  the  declared  favourite  of 
the  master.  Several  girls,  in  particular,  (for  in  Scotland 
they  are  taught  with  the  boys,)  longed  to  be  kind  to,  and 
comfort  the  sickly  lad,  who  was  so  much  cleverer  than 
his  companions.  The  character  of  Reuben  Butler  was 
so  calculated  as  to  offer  scope  both  for  their  sympathy 
and  their  admiration,  the  feelings,  perhaps,  through  which 
the  female  sex  (the  more  deserving  part  of  them  at  least) 
is  more  easily  attached. 

But  Reuben,  naturally  reserved  and  distant,  improved 
none  of  these  advantages,  and  only  became  more  attach- 
ed to  Jeanie  Deans,  as  the  enthusiastic  approbation  of  his 
master  assured  him  of  fair  prospects  in  future  hfe,  and 
awakened  his  ambition.  In  the  meantime,  every  advance 
that  Reuben  made  in  learning,  (and,  considering  his  op- 
portunities, they  were  uncommonly  great,)  rendered  him 
less  capable  of  attending  to  the  domestic  duties  of  his 
grandmother's  farm.  While  studying  the  pons  asinorum 
in  Euclid,  he  suffered  every  cuddie  upon  the  common  to 
trespass  upon  a  large  field  of  pease  belonging  to  the  Laird, 
and  nothing  but  the  active  exertions  of  Jeanie  Deans,  with 
9     VOL.   r. 


98  TALES    OF    MY   LANDLORD. 

her  little  dog  Dustiefoot,  could  have  saved  great  loss,  and 
consequent  punishment.  Similar  miscarriages  marked 
his  progress  in  his  classical  studies.  He  read  Virgil's 
Georgics  till  he  did  not  know  bear  from  barley  ;  and  had 
nearly  destroyed  the  crofts  of  Beersheba,  while  attempt- 
ing to  cultivate  them  according  to  the  practice  of  Columel- 
la, and  Cato  the  Censor. 

These  blunders  occasioned  grief  to  his  grand-dame, 
and  disconcerted  the  good  opinion  which  her  neighbour, 
Davie  Deans,  had  for  some  time  entertained  of  Reuben. 

"  1  see  naething  ye  can  make  of  that  silly  callant,  neigh- 
bour Butler,"  said  he  to  the  old  lady,  "  unless  ye  train 
him  to  the  wark  o'  the  ministry.  And  ne'er  was  there 
mair  need  of  poorfu'  preachers  than  e'en  now  in  these 
cauld  Gallio  days,  when  men's  hearts  are  hardened  like 
the  nether  mill-stone,  till  they  come  to  regard  none  of 
these  things.  It's  evident  this  puir  callant  of  yours  will 
never  be  able  to  do  a  usefu'  day's  wark,  unless  it  be  as 
an  ambassador  from  our  Master  ;  and  I  will  make  it  my 
business  to  procure  a  license  when  he  is  fit  for  the  same, 
trusting  he  will  be  a  shaft  cleanly  polished,  and  meet  to 
be  used  in  the  body  of  the  kirk  ;  and  that  he  shall  not 
turn  again,  hke  the  sow,  to  wallow  in  the  mire  of  hereti- 
cal extremes  and  defections,  but  shall  have  the  wings  of 
a  dove,  though  he  hath  lain  among  the  pots." 

The  poor  widow  gulped  down  the  affront  to  her  hus- 
band's principles,  implied  in  this  caution,  and  hastened  to 
take  Butler  from  the  High  School,  and  encourage  him  in 
the  pursuit  of  mathematics  and  divinity,  the  only  physics 
and  ethics  that  chanced  to  be  in  fashion  at  the  time. 

Jeanie  Deans  was  now  compelled  to  part  from  the  com- 
panion of  her  labour,  her  study,  and  her  pastime,  and  it 
was  with  more  than  childish  feeling  that  both  children  re- 
garded the  separation.  But  they  were  young,  and  hope 
was  high,  and  they  separated  Hke  those  who  hope  to  meet 
again  at  a  more  auspicious  hour. 

While  Reuben  Butler  was  acquiring  at  the  University 
of  St.  Andrews  the  knowledge  necessary  for  a  clergyman, 
and  macerating  his  body  with  the  privations  which  were 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAJf .  99 

necessary  in  seeking  food  for  his  mind,  his  grand-dame 
became  daily  less  able  to  struggle  with  her  little  farm, 
and  was  at  length  obliged  to  throw  it  up  to  the  new  Laird 
of  Dumbiedikes.  That  great  personage  was  no  absolute 
Jew,  and  did  not  cheat  her  in  making  the  bargain  more 
than  was  tolerable.  He  even  gave  her  permission  to 
tenant  the  house  in  which  she  had  lived  with  her  husband, 
as  long  as  it  should  be  "  tenantable,"  only  he  protested 
against  paying  for  a  farthing  of  repairs,  any  benevolence 
which  he  had  being  of  the  passive,  but  by  no  means  of 
the  active  mood. 

In  the  meanwhile,  from  superior  shrewdness,  skill,  and 
other  circumstances,  some  of  them  purely  accidental, 
Davie  Deans  gained  a  footing  in  the  world,  the  possession 
of  some  wealth,  the  reputation  of  more,  and  a  growing 
disposition  to  preserve  and  increase  his  store  ;  for  which, 
when  he  thought  upon  it  seriously,  he  was  inclined  to 
blame  himself.  From  his  knowledge  in  agriculture,  as  it 
was  then  practised,  he  became  a  sort  of  favourite  with 
the  Laird,  who  had  no  pleasure  either  in  active  sports  or 
in  society,  and  was  wont  to  end  his  daily  saunter  by  call- 
ing at  the  cottage  of  Woodend. 

On  such  occasions^  Dumbiedikes,  being  a  man  him- 
self of  slow  ideas  and  confused  utterance,  he  used  to 
sit  or  stand  for  half  an  hour  with  an  old  laced  hat  of 
his  father's  upon  his  head,  and  an  empty  tobacco-pipe 
in  his  mouth,  with  his  eyes  following  Jeanie  Deans, 
or  "  the  lassie,"  as  he  called  her,  through  the  course 
of  her  daily  domestic  labour,  while  her  father,  after 
exhausting  the  subject  of  bestial,  of  ploughs,  and  of 
harrows,  often  took  an  opportunity  of  going  full  sail  into 
controversial  subjects,  to  which  discussions  the  dignitary 
listened  with  much  seeming  patience,  but  without  making 
any  reply,  or,  indeed,  as  most  people  thought,  without 
understanding  a  single  word  of  what  the  orator  was  say- 
ing. Deans,  indeed,  denied  this  stoutly,  as  an  insult  at 
once  to  his  own  talents  for  expounding  hidden  truths,  of 
which  he  was  a  little  vain,  and  to  the  Laird's  capacity  of 
understanding  them.     He  said,  "  Dumbiedikes  was  nane 


100  TALES    OF    MY   XANDLORD. 

of  these  flashy  genlles,  wi'  lace  on  their  skirts  and  swords 
at  their  tails,  that  were  rather  for  riding  on  horseback  to 
hell  than  gaun  barefooted  to  Heaven.  He  wasna  like  his 
fatlier — he  wasnae  profane  company-keeper — nae  swear- 
er— nae  drinker — nae  frequenter  of  play-house,  or  music- 
house,  or  dancing-house — nae  Sabbath-breaker — nae  im- 
poser  of  aiths,  or  bonds,  or  denier  of  liberty  to  the  flock. 
He  clave  to  the  warld,  and  the  warld's  gear,  a  wee  ower 
muckle,  but  then  there  was  some  breathing  of  a  gale  up- 
on his  spirit,"  &tc.  he.  All  this  honest  Davie  said  and 
believed. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  that,  as  a  father  and  a  man  of 
sense  and  observation,  the  constant  direction  of  the  Laird's 
eyes  towards  Jeanie  was  altogether  unnoticed.  This  cir- 
cumstance, however,  made  a  much  greater  impression 
upon  another  member  of  his  family,  a  second  helpmate, 
to  wit,  whom  he  had  chosen  to  take  to  his  bosom  ten  years 
after  the  death  of  his  first.  Some  people  were  of  opin- 
ion, that  Douce  Davie  had  been  rather  surprised  into  this 
step,  for  in  general  he  was  no  friend  to  marriages  or  giv- 
ing in  marriage,  and  seemed  rather  to  regard  that  state  of 
society  as  a  necessary  evil, — a  thing  lawful,  and  to  be 
tolerated  in  the  imperfect  state  of  our  nature,  but  which 
clipped  the  wings  with  which  we  ought  to  soar  upwards, 
and  tethered  the  soul  to  its  mansion  of  clay,  and  the  crea- 
ture-comforts of  wife  and  bairns.  His  own  practice,  how- 
ever, had  in  this  material  point  varied  from  his  principles, 
since,  as  we  have  seen,  he  twice  knitted  for  himself  this 
dangerous  and  ensnaring  entanglement. 

Rebecca,  his  spouse,  had  by  no  means  the  same  horror 
of  matrimony,  and  as  she  made  marriages  in  imagination 
for  every  neighbour  round,  she  failed  not  to  indicate  a 
match  betwixt  Dumbiedikes  and  her  step-daughter  Jeanie. 
The  goodman  used  regularly  to  frown  and  pshaw  when- 
ever this  topic  was  touched  upon,  but  usually  ended  by 
taking  his  bonnet  and  walking  out  of  the  house,  to  con- 
ceal a  certain  gleam  of  satisfaction,  which,  at  such  a  sug- 
gestion, involuntarily  diffused  itself  over  his  austere  fea- 
tures. 


I'HE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  101 

The  more  youthful  part  of  my  readers  may  naturally 
ask,  whether  Jeanie  Deans  was  deserving  of  this  mute  at- 
tention of  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes  ;  and  the  historian, 
with  due  regard  to  veracity,  is  compelled  to  answer,  that 
her  personal  attractions  were  of  no  uncommon  descrip- 
tion. She  was  short,  and  rather  too  stoutly  made  for  her 
size,  had  grey  eyes,  light-coloured  hair,  a  round  good- 
humoured  face,  much  tanned  with  the  sun,  and  her  only 
peculiar  charm  was  an  air  of  inexpressible  serenity,  which 
a  good  conscience,  kind  feehngs,  contented  temper,  and 
the  regular  discharge  of  all  her  duties,  spread  over  her 
features.  There  was  nothing,  it  may  be  supposed,  very 
appalling  in  the  form  or  manners  of  this  rustic  heroine  ; 
yet,  whether  from  sheepish  bashfulness,  or  from  want  of 
decision  and  imperfect  knowledge  of  his  own  mind  on  the 
subject,  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes,  with  his  old  laced  hat 
and  empty  tobacco-pipe,  came  and  enjoyed  the  beatific 
vision  of  Jeanie  Deans  day  after  day,  week  after  week, 
year  after  year,  without  proposing  to  accompHsh  any  of 
the  prophecies  of  the  step-mother. 

This  good  lady  began  to  grow  doubly  impatient  on  the 
subject,  when,  after  having  been  some  years  married,  she 
lierself  presented  Douce  Davie  with  another  daughter, 
who  was  named  Euphemia,  by  corruption,  Etiie.  It  was 
then  that  Rebecca  began  to  turn  impatient  with  the  slow 
pace  at  which  the  Laird's  wooing  proceeded,  judiciously 
arguing,  that,  as  Lady  Dumbiedikes  would  have  but  Httle 
occasion  for  tocher,  the  principal  part  of  her  gudeman's 
substance  would  naturally  descend  to  the  child  by  the 
second  marriage.  Other  step-dames  have  tried  less  lau- 
dable means  for  clearing  the  way  to  the  succession  of  their 
own  children  ;  but  Rebecca,  to  do  her  justice,  only  sought 
little  Effie's  advantage  through  the  promotion,  or  which 
must  have  generally  been  accounted  such,  of  her  eldest 
sister.  She  therefore  tried  every  female  art  within  the 
compass  of  her  simple  skill,  to  bring  the  Laird  to  a  point ; 
but  had  the  mortification  to  perceive  that  her  efforts,  hke 
those  of  an  unskilful  angler,  only  scared  the  trout  she 

9*       VOL.    I. 


102  TALES    OF   MY   LANDLORD, 

meant  to  catch.  Upon  one  occasion,  in  particular,  when 
she  joked  with  the  Laird  on  the  propriety  of  giving  a 
mistress  to  the  house  of  Dumbiedikes,  he  was  so  effectu- 
ally startled,  that  neither  laced  hat,  tobacco-pipe,  nor  the 
inteUigent  proprietor  of  these  moveables,  visited  Wood  end 
for  a  fortnight.  Rebecca  was  therefore  compelled  to 
leave  the  Laird  to  proceed  at  his  own  snail's  pace,  con- 
vinced, by  experience,  of  the  grave-digger's  aphorism, 
that  your  dull  ass  will  not  mend  his  pace  for  beating. 

Reuben,  in  the  mean  time,  pursued  his  studies  at  the 
university,  supplying  his  wants  by  teaching  the  younger 
lads  the  knowledge  he  himself  acquired,  and  thus  at  once 
gaining  the  means  of  maintaining  himself  at  the  seat  of 
learning,  and  fixing  in  his  mind  the  elements  of  what  he 
had  already  obtained.  In  this  manner,  as  is  usual  among 
the  poorer  students  of  divinity  at  Scotch  universities,  he 
contrived  not  only  to  maintain  himself  according  to  his 
simple  wants,  but  even  to  send  considerable  assistance  to 
his  sole  remaining  parent,  a  sacred  duty,  of  which  the 
Scotch  are  seldom  negligent.  His  progress  in  knowledge 
of  a  general  kind,  as  well  as  in  the  studies  proper  to  his 
profession,  was  very  -considerable,  but  less  marked  from 
the  retired  modesty  of  his  disposition,  which  in  no  respect 
qualified  him  to  set  ofF  his  learning  to  the  best  advantage. 
And  thus,  had  Butler  been  a  man  given  to  make  com- 
plaints, he  had  his  tale  to  tell,  like  others,  of  unjust  pre- 
ferences, bad  luck,  and  hard  usage. 

He  obtained  his  license  as  a  preacher  of  the  gospel, 
with  some  compliments  from  the  presbytery  by  whom  it 
was  bestowed  ;  but  this  did  not  lead  to  any  preferment, 
and  he  found  it  necessary  to  make  the  cottage  at  Beer- 
sheba  his  residence  for  some  months,  witli  no  other  income 
than  was  afforded  by  the  precarious  occupation  of  teach- 
ing in  one  or  two  neighbouring  familiec.  After  having 
greeted  his  aged  grandmother,  his  first  visit  was  to  Wood- 
end,  where  he  was  received  by  Jeanie  with  warm  cordi- 
ality, arising  from  recollections  which  had  never  been 
dismissed  from  her  mind,  by  Rebecca  with  good-huraour- 


THE    HEART   OF  MID-IOTHIAN.  103 

ed  hospitality,  and  by  old  Davie  in  a  mode  peculiar  to 
himself. 

Highly  as  Douce  Deans  honoured  the  clergy,  it  was 
not  upon  each  individual  of  the  cloth  that  he  bestowed  his 
approbation  ;  and,  a  little  jealous,  perhaps,  at  seeing  his 
youthful  acquaintance  erected  into  the  dignity  of  a  teacher 
and  preacher,  he  instantly  attacked  him  upon  various 
points  of  controversy,  in  order  to  discover  whether  he 
might  not  have  fallen  into  some  of  the  snares,  defections, 
and  desertions  of  the  time.  Butler  was  not  only  a  man 
of  staunch  presbyterian  principles,  but  was  also  willing  to 
avoid  giving  pain  to  his  old  friend  by  disputing  upon  points 
of  little  importance  ;  and  therefore  he  might  have  hoped 
to  have  come  hke  refined  gold  out  of  the  furnace  of  Da- 
vie's interrogatories.  But  the  result  on  the  mind  of  that 
strict  investigator  was  not  ahogether  so  favourable  as  might 
have  been  hoped  and  anticipated.  Old  Judith  Butler, 
who  had  hobbled  that  evening  as  far  as  Woodend,  in  or- 
der to  enjoy  the  congratulations  of  her  neighbours  upon 
Reuben's  return,  and  upon  his  high  attainments,  of  which 
she  was  herself  not  a  little  proud,  was  somewhat  mortifi- 
ed to  find  that  her  old  friend  Deans  did  not  enter  into  the 
subject  with  the  warmth  she  expected.  At  first,  indeed, 
he  seemed  rather  silent  than  dissatisfied  ;  and  it  was  not 
till  Judith  had  essayed  the  subject  more  than  once  that  it 
led  to  the  following  dialogue  : — 

"  Aweel,  neibor  Deans,  I  thought  ye  wad  hae  been 
glad  to  see  Reuben  amang  us  again,  puir  fallow." 

"  I  am  glad,  Mrs.  Butler,"  was  the  neighbour's  con- 
cise answer. 

"  Since  he  has  lost  his  grandfather  and  his  father, 
(praised  be  Him  that  giveth  and  taketh  !)  I  ken  nae  friend 
he  has  in  the  world  that's  been  sae  like  a  father  to  him  as 
the  sell  o'  ye,  neibor  Deans." 

"  God  is  the  only  father  of  the  fatherless,"  said  Deans, 
touching  his  bonnet,  and  looked  upwards.  "  Give  hon- 
our where  it  is  due,  gudewife,  and  not  to  an  unworthy  in- 


104  TALES    OF    MY   LANDLORD. 

"  Aweel,  that's  your  way  o'  turning  it,  and  nae  doubt 
ye  ken  best  ;  'but  I  hae  kenned  ye,  Davie,  send  a  forpet 
o'  meal  to  Beersheba  when  there  was  na  a  bow  left  in  the 
meal-ark  at  Woodend  ;  aye,  and  I  hae  kenned  ye" 

"  Gudewife,"  said  David,  interrupting  her,  "  these  are 
but  idle  tales  to  tell  me  ;  fit  for  naething  but  to  pufF  up 
our  inward  man  wi'  our  ain  vain  acts.  I  stude  beside 
blessed  Alexander  Peden,  when  1  heard  him  call  the 
death  and  testimony  of  our  happy  martyrs  but  draps  of 
blude  and  scarts  of  ink  ;  and  what  suld  I  think  of  ony- 
thing  the  like  of  me  can  do  ^■ 

"  Weel,  neibor  Deans,  ye  ken  best ;  but  I  maun  say 
that,  I  am  sure  you  are  glad  to  see  my  bairn  again — the 
hah's  gane  now,  unless  he  has  to  walk  ower  mony  miles 
at  a  stretch  ;  and  he  has  a  wee  bit  colour  in  his  cheek, 
that  glads  my  auld  een  to  see  it ;  and  he  has  as  decent  a 
black  coat  as  the  minister,  and" 

"  I  am  very  heartily  glad  he  is  weel  and  thriving," 
said  Mr.  Deans,  with  a  gravity  that  seemed  intended  to 
cut  short  the  subject ;  but  a  woman  who  is  bent  upon  a 
point  is  not  easily  pushed  from  it. 

"  And,"  continued  Mrs.  Butler,  "  he  can  wag  his 
head  in  a  pu'pit  now,  neibor  Deans,  think  but  of  that — 
my  ain  oe — and  a'body  maun  sit  still  and  hsten  to  him 
as  if  he  were  the  Paip  of  Rome." 

*' The  what  9 — the  who  *? — woman*?"  said  Deans, 
with  a  sternness  far  beyond  his  usual  gravity,  as  soon  as 
these  offensive  words  had  struck  upon  the  tympanum  of 
his  ear. 

"  Eh,  guide  us  !"  said  the  poor  woman  ;  "  I  had  for- 
got what  an  ill  will  ye  had  aye  at  the  Paip,  and  sae  had 
my  puir  gudeman,  Stephen  Butler.  Mony  an  afternoon 
he  wad  sit  and  take  up  his  testimony  again  the  Paip,  and 
again  baptizing  of  bairns,  and  the  hke." 

"  Woman  !"  reiterated  Deans,  "  either  speak  about 
what  ye  ken  something  o',  or  be  silent ;  I  say  that  inde- 
pendency is  a  foul  heresy,  and  anabaptism  a  damnable 
and  deceiving  error,  whilk  suld  be  rooted  out  of  the  land, 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-IOTHIAN.  105 

wi'  the  fire  o'  the   spiritual,  and  the   sword  o'  the   civil 
magistrate." 

"  Weel,  weel,  neibor,  I'll  no  say  that  ye  mayna  be 
right.  I  am  sure  ye  are  right  about  the  sawing  and  the 
mawing,  the  sheering  and  the  leading,  and  what  for  suld 
ye  no  be  right  about  kirk-wark,  too  ? — But  concerning 
my  oe,  Reuben  Butler" 

"  Reuben  Butler,  gudewife,  is  a  lad  I  wish  heartily 
weel  to,  even  as  if  he  were  mine  ain  son — but  I  doubt 
there  will  be  outs  and  ins  in  the  tract  of  his  w^alk.  I 
muckle  fear  his  gifts  will  get  the  heels  of  his  grace.  He 
has  ower  muckle  human  wit  and  learning,  and  thinks  as 
muckle  about  the  form  of  the  bicker  as  he  does  about  the 
halesomeness  of  the  food — he  maun  broider  the  mar- 
riage-garment with  lace  and  passments,  or  it's  no  gude 
aneugh  for  him.  And  it's  like  he's  something  proud  o' 
his  human  gifts  and  learning,  whilk  enables  him  to  dress 
up  his  doctrine  in  that  fine  airy  dress.  But,"  added  he, 
at  seeing  the  old  woman's  uneasiness  at  his  discourse, 
"  affliction  may  gi'e  him  a  jagg,  and  let  the  wind  out  o' 
him  as  out  o'  a  cow  that's  eaten  wet  clover,  and  the  lad 
may  do  weel,  and  be  a  burning  and  a  sliining  Hght  ;  and 
I  trust  it  will  be  yours  to  see,  and  his  to  feel  it,  and  that 
soon." 

Widow  Butler  was  obliged  to  retire,  unable  to  make 
anything  more  of  her  neighbour,  whose  discourse,  though 
she  did  not  comprehend  it,  filled  her  with  undefined  ap- 
prehensions on  her  grandson's  account,  and  greatly  de- 
pressed the  joy  with  which  she  had  welcomed  him  on  his 
return.  And  it  must  not  be  concealed,  in  justice  to  Mr. 
Dean's  discernment,  that  Butler,  in  their  conference,  had 
made  a  greater  display  of  his  learning  than  the  occasion 
called  for,  or  than  was  like  to  be  acceptable  to  the  old 
gendeman,  who,  accustomed  to  consider  himself  as  a 
person  pre-eminently  entided  to  dictate  upon  theological 
subjects  of  controversy,  felt  rather  humbled  and  morti- 
fied when  learned  authorities  were  placed  in  array  against 
him.  In  fact,  Butler  had  not  escaped  the  tinge  of  ped- 
antry which  naturally  flowed  from  his  education,  and  was 


106  TALES    OF   MY    tAJfDLORD. 

apt,  on  many  occasions,  to  make  parade  of  his  knowledge, 
when  there  was  no  need  of  such  vanity. 

Jeanie  Deans,  however,  found  no  fault  with  this  display 
of  learning,  but,  on  the  contrary,  admired  it  ;  perhaps 
on  the  same  score  that  her  sex  are  said  to  admire  men 
of  courage,  on  account  of  their  own  deficiency  in  that 
qualification.  The  circumstances  of  their  families  threw 
the  young  people  constantly  together ;  their  old  intimacy 
was  renewed,  though  upon  a  footing  better  adapted  to 
their  age  ;  and  it  became  at  length  understood  betwixt 
them,  that  their  union  should  be  deferred  no  longer  than 
until  Butler  should  obtain  some  steady  means  of  support, 
how^ever  humble.  This,  however,  was  not  a  matter 
speedily  to  be  accomplished.  Plan  after  plan  was  form- 
ed, and  plan  after  plan  failed.  The  good-humoured 
cheek  of  Jeanie  lost  the  first  blush  of  juvenile  freshness  ; 
Reuben's  brow  assumed  the  gravity  of  manhood,  yet  the 
means  of  obtaining  a  settlement  seemed  remote  as  ever. 
Fortunately  for  the  lovers,  their  passion  was  of  no  ardent 
or  enthusiastic  cast,  and  a  sense  of  duty  on  both  sides 
induced  them  to  bear,  with  patient  fortitude,  the  protract- 
ed ir.terYd  which  divided  them  from  each  otherf 

In  the  meanwhile,  time  did  not  roll  on  without  effect- 
ing his  usual  changes.  The  widow  of  Stephen  Butler, 
so  long  the  prop  of  the  family  of  Beersheba,  was  gath- 
ered to  her  fathers  ;  and  Rebecca,  the  careful  spouse  of 
our  friend  Davie  Deans,  was  also  summoned  from  her 
plans  of  matrimonial  and  domestic  economy.  The 
morning  after  her  death,  Reuben  Butler  went  to  offer  his 
mite  of  consolation  to  his  old  friend  and  benefactor.  He 
witnessed,  on  this  occasion,  a  remarkable  struggle  betwixt 
the  force  of  natural  affection,  and  the  religious  stoicism, 
which  the  sufferer  thought  it  was  incumbent  upon  him  to 
maintain  under  each  earthly  dispensation,  whether  of  weal 
or  woe. 

On  his  arrival  at  the  cottage,  Jeanie,  with  her  eyes 
overflowing  with  tears,  pointed  to  the  little  orchard,  "  in 
which,"  she  whispered  with  broken  accents,  "  my  poor 
father  has  been  since  his  misfortune."     Somewhat  alarm- 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTH lAX.  107 

ed  at  this  account,  Butler  entered  the  orchard,  and  ad- 
vanced slowly  towards  his  old  friend,  who,  sealed  in  a 
small  rude  arbour,  appeared  to  be  sunk  in  the  extremity 
of  his  affliction.  He  lifted  Ill's  eyes  somewhat  sternly  as 
Butler  approached,  as  if  offended  at  the  interruption  ; 
but  as  the  young  man  hesitated  whether  he  ought  to  re- 
treat or  advance,  he  arose,  and  came  forward  to  meet  him, 
with  a  self-possessed,  and  even  dignitied  air. 

"  Young  man,  lay  it  not  to  heart,  though  the  righteous 
perish  and  the  merciful  are  reinoved,  seeing,  it  may  be 
well  said,  that  they  are  taken  away  from  the  evils  to  come. 
Wo  to  me,  were  I  to  shed  a  tear  for  the  wife  of  my 
bosom,  when  I  might  weep  rivers  of  water  for  this  afflict- 
ed Church,  cursed  as  it  is  with  carnal  seekers,  and  with 
the  dead  of  heart." 

"  I  am  happy,"  said  Butler,  "  that  you  can  forget 
your  private  affliction  in  your  regard  for  public  duty." 

"  Forget,  Reuben  9"  said  poor  Deans,  putting  his 
handkerchief  to  his  eyes, — "  She's  not  to  be  forgotten 
on  this  side  of  time  ;  but  He  that  gives  the  wound,  can 
sena  the  ointment.  I  declare  there  have  been  times  dur- 
ing this  night  when  my  meditation  has  been  so  wrapt,  that 
I  knew  not  of  my  heavy  loss.  It  has  been  with  me  as 
with  the  worthy  John  Semple,  called  Carspharn  John, 
upon  a  like  trial, — I  have  been  this  night  on  the  banks  of 
Ulai,  plucking  an  apple  here  and  there." 

Notwithstanding  the  assumed  fortitude  of  Deans, 
which  he  conceived  to  be  the  discharge  of  a  great  Chris- 
tian duty,  he  had  too  good  a  heart  not  to  suffer  deeply 
under  this  heavy  loss.  Woodend  became  altogether  dis- 
tasteful to  him  ;  and  as  he  had  obtained  both  substance 
and  experience  by  his  management  of  that  little  farm,  he 
resolved  to  employ  them  as  a  dairy  farmer,  or  cow-feeder, 
as  they  are  cahed  in  Scotland.  The  situation  he  chose 
for  his  new  settlement  was  at  a  place  called  Saint  Leon- 
ard's Crags,  lying  betwixt  Edinburgh  and  the  mountain 
called  Arthur's  Seat,  and  adjoining  to  the  extensive  sheep 
pasture  still  named  the  King's  Park,  from  its  having  been 
formerly  dedicated  to  the  preservation  of  the  royal  game. 


108  TALES    OF    MY   LANDLORD. 

Here  he  rented  a  small  lonely  house,  nearly  half  a  mile 
distant  from  the  nearest  point  of  the  city,  but  the  site  of 
which,  with  all  the  adjacent  ground,  is  now  occupied  by 
the  buildings  which  form  the  south-eastern  suburb.  An 
extensive  pasture-ground  adjoining,  which  Deans  rented 
from  the  Keeper  of  the  Royal  Park,  enabled  him  to  feed 
his  milk-cows  ;  and  the  unceasing  industry  and  activity 
of  Jeanie,  his  eldest  daughter,  was  exerted  in  making  the 
most  of  their  produce. 

She  had  now  less  frequent  opportunities  of  seeing 
Reuben,  who  had  been  obliged,  after  various  disappoint- 
ments, to  accept  the  subordinate  situation  of  assistant  in 
a  parochial  school  of  some  eminence,  at  three  or  four 
miles  distance  from  the  city.  Here  he  distinguished 
himself,  and  became  acquainted  with  several  respectable 
burgesses,  who,  on  account  of  health,  or  other  reasons, 
chose  that  their  children  should  commence  their  educa- 
tion in  this  little  vlllnge.  His  prospects  were- thus  grad- 
ually brightening,  and  upon  each  visit  which  he  paid  at 
Saint  Leonard's  he  had  an  opportunity  of  ghding  a  hint 
to  this  purpose  into  Jeanie's  ear.  These  visits  were  ne- 
cessarily very  rare,  on  account  of  the  demands  which  the 
duties  of  the  school  made  upon  Butler's  time.  Nor  did 
ne  dare  to  make  them  even  altogether  so  frequent  as  these 
avocations  would  permit.  Deans  received  him  with 
civility,  and  even  with  kindness  ;  but  Reuben,  as  is 
usual  in  such  cases,  imagined  that  he  read  his  purpose 
in  his  eyes,  and  was  afraid  too  premature  an  explanation 
on  the  subject  would  drau^  down  his  positive  disapproval. 
Upon  the  whole,  therefore,  he  judged  it  prudent  to  call 
at  Saint  Leonard's  just  so  frequently  as  old  acquaintance 
and  neighbourhood  seemed  to  authorize,  and  no  oftener. 
There  was  another  person  who  was  more  regular  in  his 
visits. 

.  When  Davie  Deans  intimated  to  the  Laird  of  Dum- 
biedikes  his  purpose  of  "  quitting  wi'  the  land  and  house 
at  Woodend,"  the  Laird  stared  and  said  nothing.  He 
made  his  usual  visits  at  the  usual  hour  without  remark, 
until  the  day  before  the  term,  when,  observing  the  bustle 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-IOTHIAX.  109 

of  moving  furniture  already  commenced,  the  great  east- 
country  aivmrie  dragged  out  of  its  nook,  and  standing 
witli  its  shoulder  to  the  company,  like  an  awkward  booby 
about  to  leave  the  room,  the  Laird  again  stared  mightily, 
and  was  heard  to  ejaculate,  "  Hegh,  sirs  l^  Even  after 
the  day  of  departure  was  past  and  gone,  the  Laird  of 
Dumbiedikes,  at  his  usual  hour,  which  w^as  that  at  which 
David  Deans  was  wont  to  "  loose  the  pleugh,"  present- 
ed himself  before  the  closed  door  of  the  cottage  at 
Woodend,  and  seemed  as  much  astonished  at  finding  it 
shut  against  his  approach,  as  if  it  was  not  exactly  what 
he  had  to  expect.  On  this  occasion  he  was  heard  to 
ejaculate,  "  Gude  guide  us  !"  which,  by  those  who  knew 
him,  was  considered  as  a  very  unusual  mark  of  emotion. 
From  that  moment  forward,  Dumbiedikes  became  an  al- 
tered man,  and  the  regularity  of  his  movements,  hitherto 
so  exemplary,,  was  as  totally  disconcerted  as  those  of  a 
boy's  watch  when  he  has  hroken  the  main-spring.  Like 
the  index  of  the  said  watch,  did  Dumbiedikes  spin  round 
the  whole  bounds  of  his  little  property,  which  may  be  liken- 
ed unto  the  dial  of  the  time-piece,  with  unwonted  veloc- 
ity. There  was  not  a  cottage  into  which  he  did  not 
enter,  nor  scarce  a  maiden  on  whom  he  did  not  stare. 
But  so  it  was,  that  although  there  were  better  farm-hou- 
ses on  the  land  than  Woodend,  and  certainly  much  pret- 
tier girls  than  Jeanie  Deans,  yet  it  did  somehow  befall, 
that  the  blank  in  the  Laird's  time  was  not  so  pleasantly 
filled  up  as  it  had  been.  There  was  no  seat  accommo- 
dated him  so  well  as  the  "  bunker"  at  Woodend,  and  no 
face  he  loved  so  much  to  gaze  on  as  Jeanie  Deans's. 
So,  after  spinning  round  and  round  his  httle  orbit,  and 
then  remaining  stationary  for  a  week,  it  seems  to  have 
occurred  to  him,  that  he  was  not  pinned  down  to  circu- 
late on  a  pivot,  like  the  hands  of  the  watch,  but  possess- 
ed the  power  of  shifting  his  central  point,  and  extending 
his  circle  if  he  thought  proper.  To  realize  which  privi- 
lege of  change  of  place,  he  bought  a  pony  from  a  High- 

10       VOL.    I. 


110  TALES    OF   MY   LAXDIORD. 

land  drover,  and  with  its  assistance  and  company  stepped, 
or  rather  stumbled,  as  far  as  Saint  Leonard's  Crags. 

Jeanie  Deans,  though  so  much  accustomed  to  the 
Laird's  staring  that  she  was  sometime  scarce  conscious 
of  his  presence,  had  nevertheless  some  occasional  fears 
lest  he  should  call  in  the  organ  of  speech  to  back  those 
expressions  of  admiration  which  he  bestowed  on  her 
through  his  eyes.  Should  this  happen,  farewell,  she 
thought,  to  all  chance  of  a  union  with  Butler.  For  her 
father,  however  stout-hearted  and  independent  in  civil 
and  religious  principles,  was  not  without  that  respect  for 
the  Laird  of  the  land  so  deeply  imprinted  on  the  Scot- 
tish tenantry  of  the  period.  Moreover,  if  he  did  not 
positively  dislike  Butler,  yet  his  fund  of  carnal  learning 
was  often  the  object  of  sarcasms  on  David's  part,  which 
were  perhaps  founded  in  jealousy,  and  which  certainly 
indicated  no  partiality  for  the  party  against  whom  they 
were  launched.  And,  lastly,  the  match  with  Dumbie- 
dikes  would  have  presented  irresistible  charms  to  one  v\ho 
used  to  complain  that  he  felt  himself  apt  to  take  "  ower 
grit, an  armfu'  o'  the  warld."  So  that,  upon  the  whole, 
the  Laird's  diurnal  visits  were  disagreeable  to  Jeanie  from 
apprehension  of  future  consequences,  and  it  served  much 
to  console  her,  upon  removing  from  the  spot  where  she 
was  bred  and  born,  that  she  had  seen  the  last  of  Dum- 
biedikes,  his  laced  hat,  and  tobacco-pipe.  The  poor 
girl  no  more  expected  he  could  muster  courage  to  follow 
her  to  Saint  Leonard's  Crags,  than  that  any  of  her  ap- 
ple-trees or  cabbages  which  she  had  left  rooted  in  the 
"  yard"  at  Woodend,  would  spontaneously,  and  unaided, 
have  undertaken  the  same  journey.  It  was,  therefore, 
with  much  more  surprise  than  pleasure,  that,  on  the  sixth 
day  after  their  removal  to  Saint  Leonard's,  she  beheld 
Dumbiedikes  arrive,  laced  hat,  tobacco-pipe,  and  all, 
and,  with  the  self  same  greeting  of  "  how's  a'  wi'  ye, 
Jeanie  *? — Whare's  the  gudeman  '?"  assume  as  nearly  as 
he  could  the  same  position  in  the  cottage  at  Saint  Leon- 
ard's, which  he  had  so  long  and  so  regularly  occupied  at 
Woodend.     He   was  no  sooner,  however,  seated,  than. 


THE    HEAUT    OF   MID-LOTHIAX.  Ill 

with  an  unusual  exertion  of  his  powers  of  conversation,  he 
added,  "  Jeanie — I  say,  Jeanie  woman,"  here  he  ex- 
tended his  hand  towards  her  shoulder  with  all  the  fingers 
spread  out  as  if  to  clutch  it,  but  in  so  bashful  and  awk- 
ward a  manner,  that,  when  she  whisked  herself  beyond 
its  reach,  the  paw  remained  supended  in  the  air  with  the 
palm  open,  like  the  claw  of  a  heraldic  griffin — "  Jeanie," 
continued  the  swain,  in  this  moment  of  inspiration, — "  I 
say,  Jeanie,  it's  a  braw  day  out  bye,  and  the  roads  are 
no  that  ill  for  boot-hose." 

"  The  deil's  in  the  daidling  body,"  muttered  Jeanie 
between  her  teeth  ;  "  wha  wad  hae  thought  o'  his  daiker- 
ing  out  this  length  9"  And  she  afterwards  confessed  that 
she  threw  a  little  of  this  ungracious  sentiment  into  her 
accent  and  manner  j  for  her  father  being  abroad,  and  the 
"  body,"  as  she  irreverently  termed  the  landed  proprie- 
tor, "  looking  unco  gleg  and  canty,  she  didna  ken  what 
he  might  be  coming  out  wi'  next." 

Her  frowns,  however,  acted  as  a  complete  sedative, 
and  the  Laird  relapsed  from  that  day  into  his  former 
taciturn  habits,  visiting  the  cow-feeder's  cottage  three  or 
four  times  every  week,  when  the  weather  permitted,  with 
apparently  no  other  purpose  than  to  stare  at  Jeanie 
Deans,  while  Douce  David  poured  forth  his  eloquence 
upon  the  controversies  and  testimonies  of  the  day. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Her  air,  her  manners,  all  who  saw  admired, 
Courteous,  though  coy,  and  g-entle,  though  retired, 
The  joy  of  youth  and  health  her  eyes  display'd  : 
And  ease  of  heart  her  every  look  convey'd. 

Crabbe. 

The  visits  of  the  Laird   thus  again  sunk  into  matters 
of  ordinary  course,  from  which  nothing  was  to  be  ex- 


112  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

pected  or  apprehended.  If  a  lover  could  have  gained  a 
fair  one  as  a  snake  is  said  to  fascinate  a  bird,  by  perti- 
naciously gazing  on  her  with  great  stupid  greenish  eyes, 
which  began  now  to  be  occasionally  aided  by  spectacles, 
unquestionably  Dumbiedikes  would  have  been  the  per- 
son to  perform  the  feat.  But  the  art  of  fascination  seems 
among  the  artes  perditce,  and  I  cannot  learn  that  this 
most  pertinacious  of  starers  produced  any  effect  by  his 
attentions  beyond  an  occasional  yawn. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  object  of  his  gaze  was  gradual- 
ly attaining  the  verge  of  youth,  and  approaching  to  what 
is  called  in  females  the  middle  age,  which  is  impolitely 
held  to  begin  a  few  years  earlier  with  their  more  fragile 
sex  than  with  men.  Many  people  would  have  been  of 
opinion,  that  the  Laird  would  have  done  better  to  have 
transferred  his  glances  to  an  object  possessed  of  far  su- 
perior charms  to  Jeanie's,  even  when  Jeanie's  were  in 
their  bloom,  who  began  now  to  be  distinguished  by  all 
who  visited  the  cottage  at  Saint  Leonard's  Crags. 

Effie  Deans,  under  the  tender  and  affectionate  care  of 
her  sister,  had  now  shot  up  into  a  beautiful  and  blooming 
girl.  Her  Grecian-shaped  head  was  profusely  rich  in 
waving  ringlets  of  brown  hair,  which,  confined  by  a  blue 
snood  of  silk,  and  shading  a  laughing  Hebe  countenance, 
seemed  the  picture  of  health,  pleasure,  and  contentment. 
Her  brown  russet  short-gown  set  off  a  shape,  which  time, 
perhaps,  might  be  expected  to  render  too  robust,  the 
frequent  objection  to  Scottish  beauty,  but  which,  in  her 
present  early  age,  was  slender  and  taper,  with  that  grace- 
ful and  easy  sweep  of  outline  which  at  once  indicates 
health  and  beautiful  proportion  of  parts. 

These  growing  charms,  in  all  their  juvenile  profusion, 
had  no  power  to  shake  the  steadfast  mind,  or  divert  the 
fixed  gaze  of  the  constant  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes.  But 
there  was  scarce  another  eye  that  could  behold  this  living 
])icture  of  health  and  beauty,  without  pausing  on  it  with 
pleasure.  The  traveller  stopped  his  weary  horse  on  the 
eve  of  entering  the  city  which  was  the  end  of  his  jour- 
ney, to  gaze  on  the  sylph-like  form  that  tripped  by  him 


THE    HEART   OF  MID-I.OTHIAN.  113 

with  her  milk-pail  poised  on  her  head,  bearing  herself  so 
erect,  and  stepping  so  light  and  free  under  her  burthen, 
that  it  seemed  rather  an  ornament  than  an  encumbrance. 
The  lads  of  the  neighbouring  suburb,  who  held  their 
evening  rendezvous  for  putting  the  stone,  casting  the 
hammer,  playing  at  long  bowls,  and  other  athletic  exer- 
cises, watched  the  motions  of  Effie  Deans,  and  contend- 
ed with  each  other  which  should  have  the  good  fortune 
to  attract  her  attention.  Even  the  rigid  presbyterians  of 
her  father's  persuasion,  who  held  each  indulgence  of  the 
eye  and  sense  to  be  a  snare  at  least,  if  not  a  crime,  were 
surprised  into  a  moment's  delight  while  gazing  on  a  crea- 
ture so  exquisite, — instantly  checked  by  a  sigh,  reproach- 
ing at  once  their  own  weakness,  and  mourning  that  a 
creature  so  fair  should  share  in  the  common  and  heredi- 
tary guilt  and  imperfection  of  our  nature.  She  was  cur- 
rently entitled  the  Lily  of  Saint  Leonard's,  a  name  which 
she  deserved  as  much  by  her  guileless  purity  of  thought, 
speech,  and  action,  as  by  her  uncommon  loveliness  of 
face  and  person. 

Yet  there  w^ere  points  in  Effie's  character,  which  gave 
rise  not  only  to  strange  doubt  and  anxiety  on  the  part  of 
Douce  Davie  Deans,  whose  ideas  were  rigid,  as  may 
easily  be  supposed,  upon  the  subject  of  youthful  amuse- 
ments, but  even  of  serious  apprehension  to  her  more  in- 
dulgent sister.  The  children  of  the  Scotch  of  the  infe- 
rior classes  are  usually  spoiled  by  the  early  indulgence  of 
their  parents  ;  how,  wherefore,  and  to  what  degree,  the 
lively  and  instructive  narrative  of  the  amiable  and  accom- 
plished authoress  of  "  Glenburnie,"*  has  saved  me  and 
all  future  scribblers  the  trouble  of  recording.  EfEe  had 
had  a  double  share  of  this  inconsiderate  and  misjudged 
kindness.  Even  the  strictness  of  her  father's  principles 
could  not  condemn  the  sports  of  infancy  and  childhood  ; 
and  to  the  good  old  man,  his  younger  daughter,  the  child 
of  his  old  age,  seemed  a  child  for  some  years  after  she  1> 

— . c4^ 

*  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Hamilton,  now  no  more. — Editor. 
10*      VOL.    I. 


114  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD^ 

attained  the  years  of  womanhood,  was  still  called  the 
"  bit  lassie,"  and  "  little  Effie,"  and  was  permitted  to 
run  up  and  down  uncontrolled,  unless  upon  the  Sabbath, 
or  at  the  times  of  family  worship.  Her  sister,  with  all 
the  love  and  care  of  a  mother,  could  not  be  supposed  to 
possess  the  same  authoritative  influence,  and  that  which 
she  had  hitherto  exercised  became  gradually  limited  and 
diminished  as  Effie's  advancing  years  entided  her,  in  her 
own  conceit  at  least,  to  the  right  of  independence  and 
free  agency.  With  all  the  innocence  and  goodness  of 
disposition,  therefore,  which  we  have  described,  the  Lily 
of  St.  Leonard's  possessed  a  httle  fund  of  self-conceit 
and  obstinacy,  and  some  warmth  and  irritability  of  tem- 
per, partly  natural,  perhaps,  but  certainly  much  increased 
by  the  unrestrained  freedom  of  her  childhood.  Her 
character  will  be  best  illustrated  by  a  cottage  evening 
scene. 

The  careful  father  was  absent  in  his  well-stocked  byre, 
foddering  those  useful  and  patient  animals  on  whose  pro- 
duce his  living  depended,  the  summer  evening  was  be- 
ginning to  close  in,  when  Jeanie  Deans  began  to  be  very 
anxious  for  the  appearance  of  her  sister,  and  to  fear  that 
she  would  not  reach  home  before  her  father  returned 
from  the  labour  of  the  evening,  when  it  was  his  custom  to 
liave  "  family  exercise,"  and  when  she  knew  that  Effie's 
absence  would  give  him  the  most  serious  displeasure. 
These  apprehensions  hung  heavier  upon  her  mind,  be- 
cause, for  several  preceding  evenings,  Effie  had  disap- 
peared about  the  same  time,  and  her  stay,  at  first  so  brief 
as  scarce  to  be  noticed,  had  been  gradually  protracted  to 
half  an  hour,  and  an  hour,  and  on  the  present  occasion 
had  considerably  exceeded  even  this  last  limit.  And 
now,  Jeanie  stood  at  the  door,  with  her  hand  before  her 
eyes  to  avoid  the  rays  of  the  level  sun,  and  looked  alter- 
nately along  the  various  tracks  which  led  towards  their 
dwelling,  to  see  if  she  could  descry  the  nymph-hke  form 
of  her  sister.  There  was  a  wall  and  a  stile  which  sepa- 
rated the  royal  domain,  or  King's  Park,  as  it  is  called, 
from  the  public  road  ;  to  this  pass  she  frequently  direct- 


THE    HEAltT    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  115 

cd  her  attention,  when  she  saw  two  persons  appear  there 
somewhat  suddenly,  as  if  they  had  walked  close  by  the 
side  of  the  wall  to  screen  themselves  from  observation. 
One  of  them,  a  man,  drew  back  hastily  j  the  other,  a  fe- 
male, crossed  the  stile,  and  advanced  towards  her — it  was 
EfEe.  She  met  her  sister  with  that  affected  Hveliness  of 
manner,  which,  in  her  rank,  and  sometimes  in  those  above 
it,  females  occasionally  assume  to  hide  surprise  or  coa- 
fusion  ;  and  she  carolled  as  she  came — 

"  The  elfin  knight  sat  on  the  brae, 
The  broom  grows  bonnV;  the  broom  grows  fair  ; 

And  by  there  came  lilting  a  lady  so  gay, 
And  we  daurna  gang  down  to  the  broom  nae  mair." 

♦  *'  Whisht,  Effie,"  said  her  sister  ;  "  our  father's  com- 
ing out  o'  the  byre." — The  damsel  stinted  in  her  song. — 
''  M^hare  hae  ye  been  sae  late  at  e'en  9" 

"  It's  no  late,  lass,"  answered  Effie. 

"  It's  chappit  eight  on  every  clock  o'  the  town,  and  the 

sun's  gaun  down  ahint  the  Corstorphine  hills Whare 

can  ye  hae  been  sae  late  r" 

"  Nae  gate,"  answered  Effie. 

*'  And  wha  was  that  parted  wi'  you  at  the  stile  9" 

"  Naebody,"  repHed  Effie  once  more. 

"  Nae  gate  9 — Naebody  9 —  I  wish  it  may  be  a  right 
gate,  and  a  right  body,  that  keeps  folk  out  sae  late  at 
e'en,  Effie." 

"  What  needs  ye  be  aye  speering  then  at  folk  9"  re- 
torted Effie.  "  I'm  sure,  if  ye'll  ask  nae  questions,  I'll 
tell  ye  nae  lees.  I  never  ask  what  brings  the  Laird  of 
Dumbiedikes  glowering  here  like  a  wull-cat,  (only  his 
een's  greener,  and  no  sae  gleg,)  day  after  day,  till  we  are 
a'  like  to  gaunt  our  chafts  aff." 

"  Because  ye  ken  very  weel  he  comes  to  see  our 
father,"  said  Jeanie,  in  answer  to  this  pert  remark. 

"  And  Dominie  Butler — Does  he  come  to  see  eur 
father,  that's  sae  taen  wi'  his  Latin  words  9"  said  Effie, 
delighted  to  find  that,  by  carrying  the  waF  into  the  ene- 
my's country,  she  could  divert  the  threatened  attack  upon 


116  TALES   OF   MY  LANDLORD. 

herself,  and  with  the  petulance  of  youth  she  pursued  her 
triumph  over  her  prudential  elder  sister.  She  looked  at 
her  with  a  sly  air,  in  which  there  was  something  like 
irony,  as  she  chanted,  in  a  low  hut  marked  tone,  a  scrap 
of  an  old  Scotch  song — 

"  Through  the  kirk-yard 

I  met  wi"  the  Laird, 

The  silly  puir  body  he  said  me  nae  harm  ; 

But  just  ere  twas  dark 

I  met  wi'  the  clerk" 

Here  the  songstress  stopped,  looked  full  at  her  sister, 
and,  observing  the  tear  gather  in  her  eyes,  she  suddenly 
flung  her  arms  round  her  neck,  and  kissed  them  away. 
Jeanie,  though  hurt  and  displeased,  was  unable  to  resist 
the  caresses  of  this  untaught  child  of  nature,  whose  good 
and  evil  seemed  to  flow  rather  from  impulse  than  from 
reflection.  But  as  she  returned  the  sisterly  kiss,  in  token 
of  perfect  reconciliation,  she  could  not  suppress  the  gen- 
tle reproof, — "  Effie,  if  ye  will  learn  fule  sangs,  ye  might 
make  a  kinder  use  of  them." 

"  And  so  I  might,  Jeanie,"  continued  the  girl,  clinging 
to  her  sister's  neck  ;  "  and  I  wish  I  had  never  learned 
ane  o'  them — and  I  wish  we  had  never  come  here — and 
I  wish  my  tongue  had  been  blistered  or  I  had  vexed  ye." 

*'  Never  mind  that,  Effie,"  replied  the  affectionate 
sister  ;  "  I  canna  be  muckle  vexed  wi'  ony  thing  ye  say 
to  me — But  O  dinna  vex  our  father  !" 

"I  will  not — I  will  not,"  replied  Effie  ;  "  and  if  there 
were  as  mony  dances  the  morn's  night  as  there  are  merry 
dancers  in  the  north  firmament  on  a  frosty  e'en,  I  winna 
budge  an  inch  to  gang  near  ane  o'  them." 

"  Dance  !"  echoed  Jeanie  Deans  in  astonishment. 
"  O,  Effie,  lassie,  what  could  take  ye  to  a  dance  V^ 

It  is  very  possible,  that,  in  the  communicative  mood 
into  which  the  Lily  of  St.  Leonard's  was  now  surprised, 
she  might  have  given  her  sister  her  unreserved  confidence, 
and  saved  me  the  pain  of  telling  a  melancholy  tale  ;  but 
at  the  moment  the  word  dance  was  uttered,  it  reached  the 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  1  I  7 

ear  of  old  David  Deans,  who  had  turned  the  corner  of 
the  house,  and  came  upon  his  daughters  ere  they  were 
aware  of  his  presence.  The  word  prelate,  or  even  the 
word  pope,  could  hardly  have  produced  so  appalling  an 
effect  upon  David's  ear  ;  for,  of  all  exercises,  that  of 
dancing,  which  he  termed  a  voluntary  and  regular  fit  of 
distraction,  he  deemed  most  destructive  of  serious 
thoughts,  and  the  readiest  inlet  to  all  sort  of  licentious- 
ness ;  and  he  accounted  the  encouraging,  and  even  per- 
mitting, assemblies  or  meetings,  whether  among  those  of 
high  or  low  degree,  for  this  fantastic  and  absurd  purpose, 
or  for  that  of  dramatic  representations,  as  one  of  the 
most  flagrant  proofs  of  defection  and  causes  of  wrath. 
The  pronouncing  of  the  word  dance  by  his  own  daugh- 
ters, and  at  his  own  door  now  drove  him  beyond  the 
verge  of  patience.  "  Dance  !"  he  exclaimed,  "  Dance  ! 
— dance,  said  ye  '^  I  daur  ye,  hmmers  that  ye  are,  to 
name  sic  a  word  at  my  door  cheek  !  It's  a  dissolute  pro- 
fane pastime,  practised  by  the  Israelites  only  at  their  base 
and  brutal  worship  of  the  Golden  Calf  at  Bethel,  and  by 
the  unhappy  lass  wha  danced  aff*  the  head  of  John  the 
Baptist,  upon  whilk  chapter  I  will  exercise  this  night  for 
your  farther  instruction,  since  ye  need  it  sae  muckle, 
nothing  doubting  that  she  has  cause  to  rue  the  day,  lang 
or  this  time,  that  ere  she  suld  hae  shook  a  limb  on  sic  an 
errand.  Better  for  her  to  hae  been  born  a  cripple,  and 
carried  frae  door  to  door,  like  auld  Bessie  Bowie,  beg- 
ging bawbees,  than  to  be  a  king's  daughter,  fiddling  and 
flinging  the  gate  she  did.  I  hae  often  wondered  thatony 
ane  that  ever  bent  a  knee  for  the  right  purpose,  should 
ever  daur  to  crook  a  hough  to  fyke  and  fling  at  piper's 
wind  and  fiddler's  squealing.  And  1  bless  God,  (with 
that  singular  worthy,  Peter  Walker,  the  packman  at 
Bristo-port,)  that  ordered  my  lot  in  my  dancing  days,  so 
that  fear  of  my  head  and  throat,  dread  of  bloody  rope 
and  swift  bullet,  and  trenchant  swords,  and  pain  of  boots 
and  thumkins,  cauld  and  hunger,  wetness  and  weariness, 
stopped  the  lightness  of  my  head,  and  the  wantonness  of 
my  feet.      And  now,  if  I  hear   ye,   quean  lasses,  sae 


lis  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

muckle  as  name  dancing,  or  think  there's  sic  a  thing  in 
this  warld  as  flinging  to  fiddler's  sounds  and  piper's 
springs,  as  sure  as  my  father's  spirit  is  with  the  just,  ye 
shall  be  no  more  either  charge  or  concern  of  mine  ! 
Gang  in,  then — gang  in,  then,  hinnies,"  he  added,  in  a 
softer  tone,  for  the  tears  of  both  daughters,  but  especial- 
ly those  of  Effie,  began  to  flow  very  fast, — "  Gang  in, 
dears,  and  we'll  seek  grace  to  preserve  us  frae  all  man- 
ner of  profane  folly,  whilk  causeth  to  sin,  and  promoteth 
the  kingdom  of  darkness,  warring  with  the  kingdom  of 
light." 

The  objurgation  of  David  Deans,  however  well  meant, 
was  unhappily  timed.  It  created  a  division  of  feelings  in 
Eflie's  bosom,  and  deterred  her  from  her  intended  confi- 
dence in  her  sister.  "  She  wad  hand  me  nae  better  than 
the  dirt  below  her  feet,"  said  Efiie  to  herself,  "  were  I  to 
confess  I  hae  danced  wi'  him  four  times  on  the  green  down 
bye,  and  ance  at  Maggie  Macqueen's  ;  and  she'll  maybe 
hing  it  ower  my  head  that  she'll  tell  my  father,  and  then 
she  wad  be  mistress  and  mair.  But  I'll  no  gang  back 
tliere  again.  I'm  resolv'd  I'll  no  gang  back.  I'll  lay  in 
a  leaf  of  my  Bible,  and  that's  very  near  as  if  I  had  made 
an  aith,  that  I  winna  gang  back."  And  she  kept  her  vow 
for  a  week,  during  which  she  was  unusually  cross  and 
fretful,  blemishes  which  had  never  been  before  observed 
in  her  temper,  except  during  a  moment  of  contradiction. 

There  was  something  in  all  this  so  mysterious  as  con- 
siderably to  alarm  the  prudent  and  affectionate  Jeanie,  the 
more  so  as  she  judged  it  unkind  to  her  sister  to  mention 
to  their  father  grounds  of  anxiety  which  might  arise  from 
her  own  imagination.  Besides,  her  respect  for  the  good 
old  man  did  not  prevent  her  from  being  aware  that  he  was 
both  hot-tempered  and  positive,  and  she  sometimes  sus- 
pected that  he  carried  his  dishke  to  youthful  amusements 
beyond  the  verge  that  religion  and  reason  demanded. 
Jeanie  had  sense  enough  to  see  that  a  sudden  and  severe 
curb  upon  her  sister's  hitherto  unrestrained  freedom  might 
be  rather  productive  of  harm  than  good,  and  that  Effie, 
in  the  headstrong  wilfulness  of  youth,  was  likely  to  make 


THE    UEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAX.  119 

what  might  be  overstrained  in  her  father's  precepts  an  ex- 
cuse to  herself  for  neglecting  them  altogether.  In  the 
higher  classes,  a  damsel,  however  giddy,  is  still  under  the 
dominion  of  etiquette,  and  subject  to  the  surveillance  of 
mammas  and  chaperones  ;  but  the  country  girl,  who 
snatches  her  moments  of  gaiety  during  the  intervals  of 
labour,  is  under  no  such  guardianship  or  restraint,  and  her 
amusement  becomes  so  much  the  more  hazardous.  Jeanie 
saw  all  this  with  much  distress  of  mind,  when  a  circum- 
stance occurred  which  appeared  calculated  to  relieve  her 
anxiety. 

Mrs.  Saddletree,  with  whom  our  readers  have  already 
been  made  acquainted,  chanced  to  be  a  distant  relation  of 
Douce  David  Deans,  and  as  she  was  a  woman  orderly  in 
her  life  and  conversation,  and,  moreover,  of  good  sub- 
stance, a  sort  of  acquaintance  was  formally  kept  up  be- 
tween the  families.  Now,  this  careful  dame,  about  a 
year  and  a  half  before  our  story  commenced,  chanced  to 
need  in  the  line  of  her  profession  a  better  sort  of  servant, 
or  rather  shop-woman.  "  Mr.  Saddletree,"  she  said, 
*'  was  never  in  the  shop  when  he  could  get  his  nose  within 
the  Parliament-House,  and  it  was  an  awkward  thing  for  a 
woman-body  to  be  standing  among  bundles  o'  barkened 
leather  her  lane,  selling  saddles  and  bridles  ;  and  she  had 
cast  her  eyes  upon  her  far-awa'  cousin  Effie  Deans,  as 
just  the  very  sort  of  lassie  she  would  want  to  keep  her  in 
countenance  on  such  occasions." 

In  this  proposal  there  was  much  that  pleased  old  David, 
— there  was  bed,  board,  and  bounteth— it  was  a  decent 
situation — the  lassie  would  be  under  Mrs.  Saddletree's 
eye,  who  had  an  upright  walk,  and  hved  close  by  the 
Tolbooth  Kirk,  in  which  might  still  be  heard  the  comfort- 
ing doctrines  of  one  of  those  few  ministers  of  the  Kirk  of 
Scotland  who  had  not  bent  the  knee  unto  Baal,  according 
to  David's  expression,  or  become  accessary  to  the  course 
of  national  defections, — union,  toleration)  patronages,  and 
a  bundle  of  prelatical  Erastian  oaihs  which  had  been  im- 
posed on  the  church  since  the  Revolution,  asid  particular- 
ly in  the  reign  of  "  the  late  w^oman,"  (as  he  called  Queen 


120  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

Anne,)  the  last  of  that  unhappy  race  of  Stuarts.  In  the 
good  man's  security  concerning  the  soundness  of  the  the- 
ological doctrine  which  his  daughter  was  to  hear,  he  was 
nothing  disturbed  on  account  of  the  snares  of  a  different 
kind,  to  which  a  creature  so  beautiful,  young,  and  wilful, 
might  be  exposed  in  the  centre  of  a  populous  and  corrupt- 
ed city.  The  fact  is,  that  he  thought  with  so  much  hor- 
ror on  all  approaches  to  irregularities  of  the  nature  most 
to  be  dreaded  in  such  cases,  that  he  would  as  soon  have 
suspected  and  guarded  against  Effie's  being  induced  to 
become  guilty  of  the  crime  of  murder.  He  only  regret- 
ted that  she  should  live  under  the  same  roof  with  such  a 
worldly-wise  man  as  Bartoline  Saddletree,  whom  David 
never  suspected  of  being  an  ass,  but  considered  him  as 
endowed  with  all  the  legal  knowledge  to  which  he  made 
pretension,  and  only  liked  him  the  worse  for  possessing  it. 
The  lawyers,  especially  those  amongst  them  who  sat  as 
ruling  elders  in  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Kirk,  had 
been  forward  in  promoting  the  measures  of  patronage,  of 
the  abjuration  oath,  and  others,  which,  in  the  opinion  of 
David  Deans,  were  a  breaking  down  of  the  carved  work 
of  the  sanctuary,  and  an  intrusion  upon  the  liberties  of 
the  kirk.  Upon  the  dangers  of  listening  to  the  doctrines 
of  a  legalized  formalist,  such  as  Saddletree,  David  gave 
his  daugbter  many  lectures  ;  so  much  so,  that  he  had  time 
to  touch  but  slightly  on  the  dangers  of  chambering,  com- 
pany-keeping, and  promiscuous  dancing,  lo  which,  at  her 
time  of  hfe,  most  people  would  hav^e  thought  Effie  more 
exposed,  than  to  the  risk  of  theoretical  error  in  her  re- 
ligious faith. 

Jeanie  parted  with  her  sister,  with  a  mixed  feeling  of 
regret,  and  apprehension,  and  hope.  She  could  not  be 
so  confident  concerning  Effie's  prudence  as  her  father, 
for  she  had  observed  her  more  narrowly,  had  more  sym- 
pathy with  her  feelings,  and  could  better  estimate  the 
temptations  to  which  she  was  exposed.  On  the  other 
hand,  Mrs.  Saddletree  was  an  observing,  shrewd,  notable 
woman,  entitled  to  exercise  over  Effie  the  full  authority  of 
a  mistress,  and  likely  to  do  so  strictly,  yet  with  kindness. 


THE    HEART   OF   MID-tOTHIAN .  121 

Her  removal  to  Saddletree's,  it  was  most  probable,  would 
also  serve  to  break  off  some  idle  acquaintances,  which 
Jeanie  suspected  her  sister  to. have  formed  in  the  neigh- 
bouring suburb.  Upon  the  whole,  then,  she  viewed  her 
remov^al  from  Saint  Leonard's  with  pleasure,  and  it  was 
not  until  the  very  moment  of  their  parting  for  the  first  time 
in  their  hves.  that  she  felt  the  full  force  of  sisterly  sorrow. 
While  they  repeatedly  kissed  each  other's^  cheeks,  and 
wrung  each  other's  hands,  Jeanie  took  that  moment  of 
affectionate  sympathy,  to  press  upon  her  sister  the  neces- 
sity of  the  utmost  caution  in  her  conduct  while  residing  in 
Edinburgh.  Effie  listened,  without  once  raising  her  large 
dark  eye-lashes,  from  which  the  drops  fell  so  fast  as  al- 
most to  resemble  a  fountain.  At  the  conclusion  she  sob- 
bed again,  kissed  her  sister,  and  promised  to  recollect  all 
the  good  counsel  she  had  giv^en  her  ;  and  they  parted. 

The  first  week  or  two,  Effie  was  all  that  her  kinswoman 
expected,  and  even  more.  But  with  time  there  came  a 
relaxation  of  that  early  zeal  which  she  manifested  in 
IMrs.  Saddletree's  service.  To  borrow  once  again  from 
the  poet,  who  so  correctly  and  beautifully  describes  hving 
manners, — 

"  Something  there  was,  what,  none  presumed  to  say, — 
Clouds  lightly  passing  on  a  summer's  day  ; 
Whispers  and  hints,  which  went  from  ear  to  ear, 
And  mixed  reports  no  judge  on  earth  could  clear." 

During  this  interval,  INIrs.  Saddletree  was  sometimes  dis- 
pleased by  Effie's  fingering,  when  she  was  sent  upon  er- 
rands about  the  shop  business,  and  sometimes  by  a  little 
degree  of  impatience  which  she  manifested  at  being  re- 
buked on  such  occasions.  But  she  good-naturedly  allow- 
ed, that  the  first  was  very  natural  to  a  girl  to  whom  every 
thing  in  Edinburgh  was  new,  and  the  other  was  only  the 
petulance  of  a  spoiled  child,  when  subjected  to  the  yoke 
of  domestic  discipline  for  the  first  time.  Attention  and 
submission  could  not  be  learned  at  once — Holy-Rood  was 
not  built  in  a  day — use  would  make  perfect. 

11       VOL.    I. 


122  TALES    OF    MY   LAXDLORD. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  considerate  old  lady  had  presaged 
truly.  Ere  many  months  had  passed,  Effie  became  al- 
most wedded  to  her  duties,  though  she  no  longer  discharg- 
ed them  with  the  laughing  cheek  and  light  step,  which  at 
first  had  attracted  every  customer.  Her  mistress  some- 
times observed  her  in  tears,  but  they  v/ere  signs  of  secret 
sorrow,  which  she  concealed  as  often  as  she  saw  them 
attract  notice.  Time  wore  on,  her  cheek  grew  pale,  and 
her  step  heavy.  The  cause  of  these  changes  could  not 
have  escaped  the  matronly  eye  of  Mis.  Saddletree,  but 
she  was  chiefly  confined  by  indisposition  to  her  bed-room 
for  several  months  during  the  latter  part  of  Effie's  service. 
This  interval  was  marked  by  symptoms  of  anguish  almost 
amounting  to  despair.  The  utmost  efforts  of  the  poor  girl 
to  command  her  fits  of  hysterical  agony  were  often  totally 
unavailing,  and  the  mistakes  v;hich  she  made  in  the  shop 
the  while  were  so  numerous  and  so  provoking,  that  Barto- 
line  Saddletree,  who,  during  his  wife's  illness,  was  obliged 
to  take  closer  charge  of  the  business  than  consisted  with 
his  study  of  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law,  lost  all  pa- 
tience with  the  girl,  who,  in  his  law  Latin,  and  without 
much  respect  to  gender,  he  declared  ought  to  be  cognos- 
ced by  inquest  of  a  jury,  as  fatuug,fu7'iosns,  and  natu- 
raliter  idiota.  Neighbours,  also,  and  fellow-servants, 
remarked,  with  malicious  curiosity  or  degrading  pity,  the 
disfigured  shape,  loose  dress,  and  pale  cheeks  of  the  once 
beautiful  and  still  interesting  girl.  But  to  no  one  would 
she  grant  her  confidence,  answering  all  taunts  with  bitter 
sarcasm,  and  all  serious  expostulation  with  sullen  denial, 
or  with  floods  of  tears. 

At  length,  when  Mrs.  Saddletree's  recovery  was  likely 
to  permit  her  wonted  attention  to  the  regulati //n  of  her 
household,  Euie  Deans,  as  if  unwilling  to  face  an  investn 
gation  made  by  the  authority  of  her  mistress,  asked  per- 
mission of  Bartoline  to  go  home  for  a  week  or  two,  as- 
signing indisposition,  and  the  wish  of  trying  the  benefit  of 
repose,  and  the  change  of  air,  as  the  motives  of  her  re- 
quest. Sharp-eyed  as  a  lynx  (or  conceiving  himself  to 
be  so)  in  the  nice  sharp  quillets  of  legal  discussion,  Barto- 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  123 

line  was  as  dull  at  drawing  inferences  from  the  occurren- 
ces of  common  life  as  any  Dutch  professor  of  mathematics. 
He  suffered  Effie  to  depart  without  much  suspicion,  and 
without  any  inquiry. 

It  was  afterwards  found  that  a  period  of  a  week  inter- 
vened betwixt  her  leaving  her  master's  house  and  arriving 
at  Saint  Leonard's.  She  made  her  appearance  before 
her  sister  in  a  state  rather  resembling  the  spectre  than 
the  living  substance  of  the  gay  and  beautiful  girl,  who  had 
left  her  father's  cottage  for  the  first  time  scarce  seventeen 
months  before.  The  lingering  illness  of  her  mistress  had, 
for  the  last  few  months,  given  her  a  plea  for  confining 
herself  entirely  to  the  dusky  precincts  of  the  shop  in  the 
Lawn-market,  and  Jeanie  was  so  much  occupied,  during 
the  same  period,  with  the  concerns  of  her  father's  house- 
hold, that  she  had  rarely  found  leisure  for  a  walk  into  the 
city,  and  a  brief  and  hurried  visit  to  her  sister.  The 
young  women,  therefore,  had  scarcely  seen  each  other  for 
several  months,  nor  had  a  single  scandalous  surmise  reach- 
ed the  ears  of  the  secluded  inhabitants  of  the  cottage  at 
St.  Leonard's.  Jeanie,  therefore,  terrified  to  death  at  her 
sister's  appearance,  at  first  overwhelmed  her  with  inquiries, 
to  which  the  unfortunate  young  woman  returned  for  a  time 
incoherent  and  rambling  answers,  and  finally  fell  into  a 
hysterical  fit.  Rendered  too  certain  of  her  sister's  mis- 
fortune, Jeanie  had  now  the  dreadful  alternative  of  com- 
municating her  ruin  to  her  father,  or  of  endeavouring  to 
conceal  it  from  him.  To  all  questions  concerning  the 
name  or  rank  of  her  seducer,  and  the  fate  of  the  being 
to  whom  her  fall  had  given  birth,  Effie  remained  mute  as 
the  grave,  to  which  she  seemed  hastening  ;  and,  indeed, 
the  least  allusion  to  either  seemed  to  drive  her  to  distrac- 
tion. Her  sister,  in  distress  and  in  despair,  was  about  to 
repair  to  Mrs.  Saddletree  to  consult  her  experience,  and 
at  the  same  time  to  obtain  what  lights  she  could  upon  this 
most  unhappy  affair,  when  she  was  saved  that  pain  by  a 
new  stroke  of  fate,  which  seemed  to  carry  misfortune  to 
the  uttermost. 


124  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

David  Deans  had  been  alarmed  at  the  state  of  health 
ill  which  his  daughter  had  returned  to  her  paternal  resi- 
dence ;  but  Jeanie  had  contrived  to  divert  him  from  par- 
ticular and  specific  inquiry.  It  was,  therefore,  like  a  clap 
of  thunder  to  the  poor  old  man,  when,  just  as  the  hour  of 
noon  had  brought  the  visit  of  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes 
as  usual,  other  and  sterner,  as  well  as  most  unexpected 
guests,  arrived  at  the  cottage  of  Saint  Leonard's.  These 
were  the  officers  of  justice,  with  a  warrant  of  justiciary  to 
search  for  and  apprehend  Euphemia,  or  Effie,  Deans,  ac- 
cused of  the  crime  of  child-murther.  The  stunning 
weight  of  a  blow  so  totally  unexpected  bore  down  the  old 
man,  w  ho  had  in  his  early  youth  resisted  the  brow  of  mil- 
itary and  civil  tyranny,  though  backed  with  swords  and 
guns,  tortures  and  gibbets.  He  fell  extended  and  sense- 
less upon  his  own  hearth  ;  and  the  men,  happy  to  escape 
from  the  scene  of  his  awakening,  raised,  with  rude  hu- 
manity, the  object  of  their  warrant  from  her  bed,  and 
placed  her  in  a  coach,  which  they  had  brought  with  them. 
The  hasty  remedies  which  Jeanie  had  applied  to  bring 
back  her  father's  senses  were  scarce  begun  to  operate, 
when  the  noise  of  the  wheels  in  motion  recalled  her  at- 
tention to  her  miserable  sister.  To  run  shrieking  after 
the  carriage  was  the  first  vain  effort  of  her  distraction, 
but  she  was  stopped  by  one  or  two  female  neighbours, 
assembled  by  the  extraordinary  appearance  of  a  coach  in 
that  sequestered  place,  who  almost  forced  her  back  to  her 
father's  house.  The  deep  and  sympathetic  affliction  of 
these  poor  people,  by  whom  the  httle  family  at  St.  Leon- 
ard's were  held  in  high  regard,  filled  the  house  with  la- 
mentation. Even  Dumbiedikes  was  moved  from  his 
wonted  apathy,  and,  groping  for  his  purse  as  he  spoke, 
ejaculated,  "  Jeanie  woman — Jeanie  woman  !  dinna  greet 
— it's  sad  wark — but  siller  will  help  it  ;"  and  he  drew 
out  his  purse  as  he  spoke. 

The  old  man  had  now  raised  himself  from  the  ground, 
and,  looking  about  him  as  if  he  missed  something,  seemed 
gradually  to  recover  the  sense  of  his  wretchedness. 
"  Where,"  he  said,  with  a  voice  that  made  the  roof  ring, 


l-HE    HEART    OF    MID-IOTHIAN.  125 

*'  where  is  the  vile  harlot,  that  has  disgraced  the  blood  of 
an  honest  man  9 — Where  is  she,  that  has  no  place  among 
us,  but  has  come  foul  with  her  sins,  like  the  Evil  One 
among  the  children  of  God  9 — Where  is  she,  Jeanie  9 — 
Bring  her  before  me,  that  I  may  kill  her  with  a  word  and 
a  look." 

All  hastened  around  him  with  their  appropriate  sources 
of  consolation — the  Laird  with  his  purse,  Jeanie  with 
burnt  feathers  and  strong  waters,  and  the  women  with  their 
exhortations.  "  O,  neighbour — O,  i\Ir.  Deans,  it's  a  sair 
trial,  doubtless — but  think  of  the  Rock  of  Ages,  neigh- 
bour— think  of  the  promise  !" 

"  And  I  do  think  of  it,  neighbours — and  I  bless  God 
that  I  can  think  of  it,  even  in  the  wrack  and  ruin  of  a' 
that's  nearest  and  dearest  to  me — But  to  be  tlie  father  of 
a  cast-a-way — a  profligate — a  bloody  Zipporah — a  mere 
murderess  ! — O,  how  will  the  wicked  exult  in  the  high 
places  of  their  wickedness  ! — the  prelatists,  and  the  lati- 
tudinarians,  and  the  hand-waled  murderers,  whose  hands 
are  hard  as  horn  wi'  handing  the  slaughter-weapons — they 
will  push  out  the  lip,  and  say  that  we  are  even  such  as  them- 
selves. Sair,  sair,  I  am  grieved,  neighbours,  for  the  poor 
cast-a-way — for  the  child  of  mine  own  old  age — but  sairer 
for  the  stumbling-block  and  scandal  it  will  be  to  all  tender 
and  honest  souls  !" 

"  Davie — winna  siller  do't  9"  insinuated  the  Laird, 
still  proffering  his  green  purse,  which  was  full  of  guineas. 

"  I  tell  ye,  Dumbiedikes,"  said  Deans,  "  that  if  telling 
down  my  haill  substance  could  hae  saved  her  frae  this 
black  snare,  I  wad  hae  walked  out  wi'  naething  but  my 
bonnet  and  my  staff  to  beg  an  awmous  for  God's  sake, 
and  ca'd  mysell  a  happy  man — But  if  a  dollar,  or  a  plack, 
or  the  nineteenth  part  of  a  boddle,  wad  save  her  open 
guilt  and  open  shame  frae  open  punishment,  that  purchase 
wad  David  Deans  never  make  ! — Na,  na — an  eye  for  an 
eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth,  life  for  life,  blood  for  blood — it's 
the  law  of  man  and  it's  the  law  of  God. — Leave  me,  sirs, 

]1*       VOL.    I. 


126  TALES   OF   MY   LANDLORD. 

— leave  me — I  maun  warstle  wi'  this  trial  in  privacy  and 

on  my  knees." 

Jeanie,  now  in  some  degree  restored  to  the  power  of 
thought,  joined  in  the  same  request.  The  next  day  found 
the  father  and  daughter  still  in  the  depth  of  affliction,  but 
the  father  sternly  supporting  his  load  of  ill  through  a  proud 
sense  of  religious  duty,  and  the  daughter  anxiously  sup- 
pressing her  own  feelings  to  avoid  again  awakening  his. 
Thus  was  it  with  the  afflicted  family  until  the  morning 
after  Porteous's  death,  a  period  at  which  we  are  now  ar- 
rived. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Is  all  the  council  that  we  two  have  shared, 
The  sister's  vows,  the  hours  that  we  have  spent 
When  we  have  chid  the  hasty-footed  time 
For  parting  us— Oh  !  and  is  all  forgot  ? 

Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 

We  have  been  a  long  time  in  conducting  Butler  to  the 
door  of  the  cottage  at  St.  Leonard's  ;  yet  the  space  which 
we  have  occupied  in  the  preceding  narrative  does  not 
exceed  in  length  that  which  he  actually  spent  on  Salisbury 
Crags  upon  the  morping  which  succeeded  the  execution 
done  upon  Porteous  by  the  rioters.  For  this  delay  he 
had  his  own  motives.  He  wished, to  collect  his  thoughts, 
strangely  agitated  as  they  were,  first  by  the  melancholy 
news  of  Effie  Deans's  situation,  and  afterwards  by  the 
frightful  scene  which  he  had  witnessed.  In  the  situation 
also  in  which  he  stood  with  respect  to  Jeanie  and  her  fa- 
ther, some  ceremony,  at  least  some  choice  of  fitting  time 
and  season,  was  necessary  to  wait  upon  them.  Eight  in 
the  morning  was  then  the  ordinary  hour  for  breakfast,  and 
he  resolved  that  it  should  arrive  before  he  made  his  ap- 
pearance at  their  cottage. 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-IOTHIAX.  127 

Never  did"  hours  pass  so  heavily.  Butler  shifted  his 
place  and  enlarged  his  circle  to  while  away  the  time,  and 
heard  the  huge  bell  of  St.  Giles's  toll  each  successive  hour 
in  swelhng  tones,  which  were  instantly  attested  by  those 
of  the  other  steeples  in  succession.  He  had  heard  seven 
struck  in  this  manner,  when  he  began  to  think  he  might 
venture  to  approach  nearer  to  St.  Leonard's,  from  which 
he  was  still  a  mile  distant.  Accordingly,  he  descended 
from  his  lofty  station  as  low  as  the  bottom  of  the  valley 
which  divides  Sahsbury  Crags  from  those  small  rocks 
which  take  their  naine  from  Saiut  Leonard.  It  is,  as 
many  of  my  readers  may  know,  a  deep,  wild,  grassy  val- 
ley, scattered  with  huge  rocks  and  fragments  which  have 
descended  from  the  cliffs  and  steep  ascent  to  the  east. 

This  sequestered  dell,  as  well  as  other  places  of  the 
open  pasturage  of  the  King's  Park,  was,  about  this  time, 
often  the  resort  of  the  gallants  of  the  time  who  had  affairs 
of  honour  to  discuss  with  the  sword.  Duels  were  then 
very  common  in  Scotland,  for  the  gentry  were  at  once 
idle,  haughty,  fierce,  and  addicted  to  intemperance,  so  that 
there  lacked  neither  provocation,  nor  inclination  to  resent 
it  when  given  ;  and  the  sword,  which  was  part  of  every 
gentleman's  dress,  was  the  only  weapon  used  for  the  de- 
cision of  such  differences.  When,  therefore,  Butler  ob- 
served a  young  man  skulking,  apparently  to  avoid  obser- 
vation, among  the  scattered  rocks  at  some  distance  from 
the  footpath,  he  was  naturally  led  to  suppose  that  he  had 
sought  this  lonely  spot  upon  that  evil  errand.  He  was  so 
strongly  impressed  with  this,  that,  notwithstanding  his  own 
distress  of  mind,  he  could  not,  according  to  his  sense  of 
duty  as  a  clergyman,  pass  this  person  without  speaking  to 
him.  There  are  times,  thought  he  to  himself,  when  the 
slightest  interference  may  avert  a  great  calamity- — when  a 
word  spoken  in  season  may  do  more  for  prevention,  than 
the  eloquence  of  TuUy  could  do  for  redeeming  evil — And 
for  my  own  griefs,  be  they  as  they  may,  I  shall  feel  them 
the  lighter,  if  they  divert  me  not  from  the  prosecution  of 
my  duty. 


128  TALES    OF  MY   LANDLORD. 

Thus  thinking  and  feeling,  he  quitted  the  ordinary  path, 
and  advanced  nearer  the  object  he  had  noticed.  The 
man  at  first  directed  his  course  towards  the  hill,  in  order, 
as  it  appeared,  to  avoid  him  ;  but  when  he  saw  that  Butler 
seemed  disposed  to  follow  him,  he  adjusted  his  hat  fierce- 
ly, turned  round,  and  came  forward  as  if  to  meet  and 
defy  scrutiny. 

Butler  had  an  opportunity  of  accurately  studying  his 
features  as  they  advanced  slowly  to  meet  each  other. 
The  stranger  seemed  about  twenty-five  years  old.  His 
dress  was  of  a  kind  which  could  hardly  be  said  to  indi- 
cate his  rank  with  certainty,  for  it  was  such  as  young  gen- 
tlemen sometimes  wore  while  on  active  exercise  in  the 
morning,  and  which,  therefore,  was  imitated  by  those  of 
the  inferior  ranks,  as  young  clerks  and  tradesmen,  because 
its  cheapness  rendered  it  attainable,  while  it  approached 
more  nearly  to  the  apparel  of  youths  of  fashion  than  any 
other  which  the  manners  of  the  times  permitted  them  to 
w^ear.  If  his  air  and  manner  could  be  trusted,  however, 
this  person,  seemed  rather  to  be  dressed  under  than  above 
his  rank  ;  for  his  carriage  was  bold  and  somewhat  super- 
cilious, his  step  easy  and  free,  his  manner  daring  and  un- 
constrained. His  stature  was  of  the  middle  size,  or  rather 
above  it,  his  limbs  well-proportioned,  yet  not  so  strong  as 
to  infer  the  reproach  of  clumsiness.  His  feaKires  were 
uncommonly  handsome,  and  all  about  him  would  have 
been  interesting  and  prepossessing,  but  for  that  indescrib- 
able expression  which  habitual  dissipation  gives  to  the 
countenance,  joined  with  a  certain  audacity  in  voice  and 
manner,  of  that  kind  which  is  often  assumed  as  a  mask 
for  confusion  and  apprehension. 

Butler  and  the  stranger  met — surveyed  each  other — 
when,  as  the  latter,  slightly  touching  his  hat,  was  about  to 
pass  by  him,  Butler,  while  he  returned  the  salutation,  ob- 
served, "  A  fine  morning,  sir — You  are  on  the  hill  early." 

"  I  have  business  here,"  said  the  young  man,  in  a  tone 
meant  to  repress  further  inquiry. 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it,  sir,"  said  Butler.  "  I  trust  you 
will  forgive  my  hoping  that  it  is  of  a  lawful  kind  9" 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-IOTHIAN.  129 

'*  Sir,"  said  the  other,  with  marked  surprise,  "  I  uever 
forgive  impertinence,  nor  can  I  conceive  what  title  you 
have  to  hope  anything  about  what  no  way  concerns  you." 

"  I  am  a  soldier,  sir,*'  said  Butler,  "  and  have  a  charge 
to  arrest  evil-doers  in  the  name  of  my  blaster." 

"  A  soldier  9"  said  the  young  man,  stepping  back,  and 
fiercely  laying  his  hand  on  his  sword — "  A  soldier,  and 
arrest  me  7  Did  you  reckon  what  your  life  was  worth 
before  you  took  the  commission  upon  you  '?" 

"  You  mistake  me,  sir,"  said  Butler,  gravely  ;  "  neith- 
er my  warfare  nor  my  warrant  is  of  this  worl(j — I  am 
a  preacher  of  the  gospel,  and  have  power,  in  my  Master's 
name,  to  command  the  peace  upon  earth  and  good  will 
towards  men,  which  was  proclaimed  with  the  gospel." 

"  A  minister  !"  said  the  stranger,  carelessly,  and  with 
an  expression  approaching  to  scorn.  "  I  know  the  gen- 
tlemen of  your  cloth  in  Scotland  claim  a  strange  right  of 
intermeddling  with  men's  private  affairs.  But  I  have  been 
abroad,  and  know  better  than  to  be  priest-ridden." 

"  Sir,  if  it  be  true  that  any  of  my  cloth,  or,  it  might  be 
more  decently  said,  of  my  calling,  interfere  with  men's 
private  affairs,  for  the  gratification  either  of  idle  curiosity, 
or  for  worse  motives,  you  cannot  have  learned  a  better 
lesson  abroad  than  to  contemn  such  practices.  But,  in 
my  Master's  work,  I  am  called  to  be  busy  in  season  and 
out  of  season,  and  conscious  as  I  am  of  a  pure  motive, 
it  were  better  for  me  to  incur  your  contempt  for  speak- 
ing, than  the  correction  of  my  own  conscience  for  being 
silent." 

"  In  the  name  of  the  devil,"  said  the  young  man  im- 
patiently, "  say  what  you  have  to  say,  then  ;  though  whom 
you  take  me  for,  or  what  earthly  concern  you  can  have 
with  me,  a  stranger  to  you,  or  with  my  actions  and  mo- 
tives, of  which  you  can  know  nothing,  I  cannot  conjec- 
ture for  an  instant." 

'•  You  are  about,"  said  Butler,  "  to  violate  one  of  your 
country's  wisest  laws — you  are  about,  which  is  much 
more  dreadful,  to  violate  a  law,  which  God  himself  has 
implanted  within  our  nature,  and   written,  as  it  were,   in 


130  TALES    OF    MY   LANDLORD. 

the  table  of  our  hearts,  to  which  every  thrill  of  our  nerves 
is  responsive." 

"  And  what  is  the  law  you  speak  of  9"  said  the  stran- 
ger, in  a  hollow  and  somewhat  disturbed  accent. 

*'  Thou  shalt  do  no  xMurder,"  said  Butler,  with  a  deep 
and  solemn  voice. 

The  young  man  visibly  started,  and  looked  considera- 
bly appalled.  Butler  perceived  he  had  made  a  favoura- 
ble impression,  and  resolved  to  follow  it  up.  "  Think," 
he  said,  "  young  man,"  laying  his  hand  kindly  upon  the 
strangei;'s  shoulder,  "  what  an  awful  alternative  you  vol- 
untarily choose  for  yourself,  to  kill,  or  be  killed.  Think 
what  it  is  to  rush  uncalled  into  the  presence  of  an  offend- 
ed Deity,  your  heart  fermenting  with  evil  passions,  your 
hand  hot  from  the  steel  you  had  been  urging,  with  your 
best  skill  and  malice,  against  the  breast  of  a  fellow-crea- 
ture. Or,  suppose  yourself  the  scarce  less-  wretched  sur- 
vivor, with  the  guilt  of  Cain,  the  first  murderer,  in  your 
lieart,  with  his  stamp  upon  your  brow — that  stamp,  which 
struck  all  who  gazed  on  him  with  unutterable  horror,  and 
by  which  the  murderer  is  made  manifest  to  all  who  look 
upon  him.     Think " 

The  stranger  gradually  withdrew  himself  from  under 
the  hand  of  his  monitor  ;  and,  pulling  his  hat  over  his 
brows,  thus  interrupted  him  :  "  Your  meaning,  sir,  I 
dare  say,  is  excellent,  but  you  are  throwing  your  advice 
away.  1  am  not  in  this  place  with  violent  intentions  against 
any  one.  I  may  be  bad  enough — you  priests  say  all  men 
are  so — but  lam  here  for  the  purpose  of  saving  life,  not 
of  taking  it  away.  If  you  wish  to  spend  your  time  rather 
in  doing  a  good  action  than  in  talking  about  you  know  not 
what,  1  will  give  you  an  opportunity.  Do  you  see  yonder 
crag  to  the  right,  over  which  appears  the  chimney  of  a 
lone  house  1  Go  thither,  inquire  for  one  Jeanie  Deuns, 
the  daughter  of  the  goodman  ;  let  her  know  that  he  she 
wots  of  remained  here  from  day-break  till  this  hour,  ex- 
pecting to  see  her,  and  that  he  can  abide  no  longer.  Tell 
her,  she  must  meet  me  at  the  Hunter's  bos^,  to-night,  as 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAX.  131 

the  moon  rises,  behind  St.  Anthony's  Hill,  or  that  she  will 
make  a  desperate  man  of  me." 

"  Wlio,  or  what  are  you,"  replied  Butler,  exceedingly 
and  most  unpleasantly  surprised,  "  who  charge  me  with 
such  an  errand  *?" 

"  I  am  the  devil  !" — answered  the  young  man  hastily. 

Butler  stepped  instinctively  back,  and  commended 
himself  internally  to  Heaven  ;  for,  though  a  wise  and 
strong-minded  man,  he  was  neidier  wiser  nor  more  strong- 
minded  than  those  of  his  age  aisd  education,  with  whom, 
to  disbelieve  witchcraft  or  spectres,  was  held  an  undeni- 
able proof  of  atheism. 

The  stranger  went  on  without  observing  his  emotion. 
"  Yes,  call  me  Apollyon,  Abaddon  ;  whatever  name  you 
shall  choose,  as  a  clergyman  acquahited  with  the  upper 
and  lower  circles  of  spiritual  denomination,  to  call  me  by, 
you  shall  not  find  an  appellation  more  odious  to  him  that 
bears  it,  than  is  mine  own." 

This  sentence  was  spoken  with  the  bitterness  of  self- 
upbraiding,  and  a  contortion  of  visage  absolutely  demon- 
iacal. Butler,  though  a  stout-hearted  man,  was  over- 
awed ;  for  intensity  of  mental  distress  has  in  it  a  sort  of 
sublimity  which  repels  and  overawes  all  men,  but  espe- 
cially those  of  kind  and  sympathetic  dispositions.  The 
stranger  turned  abruptly  from  Butler  as  he  spoke,  but 
instantly  returned,  and,  coming  up  to  him  closely  and 
boldly,  saidj  in  a  fierce  determined  tone,  "  I  have  told 
you  who,  and  what  I  am — who,  and  what  are  you  9 
What  is  your  name  9" 

"  Butler,"  answered  the  person  to  whom  this  abrupt 
question  wps  addressed,  surprised  into  answering  it  by  tlie 
sudden  and-  fierce  manner  of  the  querist — "  Reuben 
Butler,  a  preacher  of  the  gospel." 

At  this  answer,  the  stranger  again  plucked  more  deep 
over  his  brows  the  hat  which  he  had  thrown  back  in  his 
former  agitation.  "  Butler  !"  he  repeated, — "  the  as- 
sistant of  the  schoolmaster  at  Libberion  *?" 

"  The  same,"  answered  Butler,  composedly. 


132  TALES    OF    ?*tY    liATVDLORD. 

The  stranger  covered  bis  face  with  his  hand,  as  if  on 
sudden  reflection,  and  then  turned  away,  but  stopped 
when  he  had  walked  a  few  paces  ;  and  seeing  Butler 
follow  him  with  his  eyes,  called  out  in  a  stern  yet  sup- 
pressed tone,  just  as  if  he  had  exactly  calculated  that 
his  accents  should  not  be  heard  a  yard  beyond  the  spot 
on  which  Butler  stood,  '•  Go  your  way,  and  do  mine 
errand.  Do  not  look  after  me.  1  will  neither  descend 
through  the  bowels  of  these  rocks,  nor  vanish  in  a  flash 
of  fire  ;  and  yet  the  eye  that  seeks  to  trace  my  motions, 
shall  have  reason  to  curse  it  was  ever  shrouded  by  eye- 
lid or  eye-lash.  Begone,  and  look  not  behind  you. 
Teil  Jednie  Deans,  that  when  the  moon  rises,  1  shall  ex- 
pect to  meet  her  at  Nicol  Muschat's  Cairn,  beneath  St. 
Anlhony's  Chapel." 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  he  turned  and  took  the 
road  against  the  hill,  with  a  haste  that  seemed  as  peremp- 
tory as  his  tone  of  authority. 

Dreading  he  knew  not  what  of  additional  misery  to  a 
lot  which  seemed  little  capable  of  receiving  augmentation, 
and  desperate  at  the  idea  that  any  living  man  should  dare 
to  send  so  extraordinary  a  request,  couched  in  terms  so 
peremptory,  to  tde  half-betrothed  object  of  his  early  and 
only  affection,  Butler  strode  hastily  towards  the  cottage, 
in  order  to  ascertain  how  far  this  daring  and  rude  gallant 
was  actually  entitled  to  press  on  Jeanie  Deans  a  request 
which  no  prudent,  and  scarce  any  modest,  young  woman 
was  likely  to  comply  with. 

Butler  was  by  nature  neither  jealous  nor  superstitious ; 
yet  the  feelings  which  lead  to  those  moods  of  the  mind 
were  rooted  in  his  heart,  as  a  portion  derived  from  the 
common  stock  of  humanity.  It  was  maddening  to  think 
that  a  profligate  gallant,  such  as  the  manner  and  tone  of 
the  stranger  evinced  him  to  be,  should  have  it  in  his  power 
to  command  forth  his  future  bride  and  plighted  true-love, 
at  a  place  so  improper,  and  an  hour  so  unseasonable. 
Yet  the  tone  in  which  the  stranger  spoke  had  iwthing  of 
the  soft  half-breathed  voice  proper  to  the  seducer  who 
solicits  an  assignation  ;  it  was  bold,  fierce,  and  imperative. 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAIf .  133 

and  had  less  of  love  in  it  than  of  menace  and  intimida- 
tion. 

The  suggestions  of  superstition  seemed  more  plausible, 
had  Butler's  mind  been  very  accessible  to  them.  "  Was 
this  indeed  the  Roaring  Lion,  who  goeth  about  seeking 
whom  he  may  devour  9"  This  was  a  question  which 
pressed  itself  on  Butler's  mind  with  an  earnestness  that 
cannot  be  conceived  by  those  who  hve  in  the  present 
day.  The  fiery  eye,  the  abrupt  demeanour,  the  occa- 
sionally harsh,  yet  studiously  subdued  tone  of  voice, — 
the  features,  whose  perfect  beauty  was  now  clouded  with 
pride,  now  disturbed  by  suspicion,  now  inflamed  with 
passion — those  dark  hazel  eyes  which  he  sometimes 
shaded  with  his  cap,  as  if  he  were  averse  to  have  them 
seen  while  they  were  occupied  with  keenly  observing  the 
motions  and  bearing  of  others — those  eyes  that  w^ere  now 
turbid  with  melancholy,  now  gleaming  with  scorn,  and 
now  sparkling  with  fury — was  it  the  passions  of  a  mere 
mortal  they  expressed,  or  the  emotions  of  a  fiend,  who 
seeks,  and  seeks  in  vain,  to  conceal  his  fiendish  designs 
under  the  borrowed  mask  of  manly  beauty  ^  The  whole 
partook  of  the  mien,  language,  and  port  of  the  arch- 
angel ;  and,  imperfectly  as  we  have  been  able  to  describe 
it,  the. effect  of  the  interview  upon  Buder's  nerves,  shaken 
as  they  were  at  the  time  by  the  horrors  of  the  preceding 
night,  were  greater  than  his  understanding  warranted,  or 
his  pride  cared  to  submit  to.  The  very  place  where  he 
had  met  this  singular  person  was  desecrated,  as  it  were, 
and  unhallowed,  owing  to  many  violent  deaths,  both  in 
duels  and  by  suicide,  which  had  in  former  times  taken 
place  there  ;  and  the  spot  which  he  had  named  as  a  ren- 
dezvous at  so  late  an  hour,  was  held  in  general  to  be  ac- 
cursed, from  a  frightful  and  cruel  murder  which  had  been 
there  comniitted  by  the  wretch  from  whom  the  place  took 
its  name,  upon  the  person  of  his  owm  wife.  It  was  in 
such  places,  according  to  the  belief  of  that  period,  (when 
the  laws  against  witchcraft  were  still  in  fresh  observance, 
and  had  even  lately  been  acted  upon,)  that  evil  spirits  had 

12       VOL.    I. 


134  TALES    OF    MY   LANDLORD. 

power  to  make  themselves  visible  to  human  eyes,  and  to 
practise  upon  the  feelings  and  senses  of  mankind.  Sus- 
picions, founded  on  such  circumstances,  rushed  on  But- 
ler's mind,  unprepared  as  it  was,  by  any  previous  course 
of  reasoning,  to  deny  that  which  all  of  his  time,  country, 
and  profession,  believed  ;  but  common  sense  rejected 
these  vain  ideas  as  inconsistent,  if  not  with  possibility,  at 
least  with  the  general  rules  by  which  the  universe  is  gov- 
erned,— a  deviation  from  which,  as  Butler  well  argued 
with  himself,  ought  not  to  be  admitted  as  probable  upon 
any  but  the  plainest  and  most  incontrovertible  evidence. 
An  earthly  lover,  however,  or  a  young  man,  who,  from 
w^iatever  cause,  had  the  right  of  exercising  such  sum- 
mary and  unceremonious  authority  over  the  object  of  his 
long-settled,  and  apparently  sincerely  returned  affection, 
was  an  object  scarce  less  appalling  to  his  mind,  than  those 
which  superstition  suggested. 

His  limbs  exhausted  with  fatigue,  his  mind  harassed 
with  anxiety,  and  with  painful  doubts  and  recollections, 
Butler  dragged  himself  up  the  ascent  from  the  valley  to 
Saint  Leonard's  Crags,  and  presented  himself  at  the 
door  of  Deans's  habitation,  with  feelings  much  akin  to  the 
miserable  reflections  and  fears  of  its  inhabitants. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Then  she  stretched  out  her  lily  hand, 

And  for  to  do  her  best  ; 
'•'  Hae  back  thy  faith  and  troth,  Willie, 

God  gi'e  thy  soul  good  rest  !" 

Old  Ballad. 

"  Come  in,"  answered  the  low  and  sweet-toned  voice 
he  loved  best  to  hear,  as  Butler  tapped  at  the  door  of 
the  cottage.  He  lifted  the  latch  and  found  himself  under 
the  roof  of  affliction.     Jeanie  was  unable  to  trust  herself 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTUIAN.  135 

with  more  than  one  glance  towards  her  lover,  whom  she 
now  met  under  circumstances  so  agonizing  to  her  feelings, 
and  at  the  same  time  so  humbhng  to  her  honest  pride. 
It  is  well  known,  that  much,  both  of  what  is  good  and 
bad  in  the  Scottish  national  character,  arises  out  of  the 
intimacy  of  their  family  connexions.  "  To  be  come  of 
honest  folk,"  that  is,  of  people  who  have  borne  a  fair 
and  unstained  character,  is  an  advantage  as  highly  prized 
among  the  lower  Scotch,  as  the  emphatic  counterpart, 
"  to  be  of  a  good  family,"  is  valued  among  their  gentry. 
The  worth  and  respectabihty  of  one  member  of  a  peas- 
ant's family  is  always  accounted  by  themselves  and  oth- 
ers, not  only  a  matter  of  honest  pride,  but  a  guarantee 
for  the  good  conduct  of  the  whole.  On  the  contrary, 
such  a  melancholy  stain  as  w^as  now  flung  on  one  of  the 
children  of  Deans,  extended  its  disgrace  to  all  connected 
with  him,  and  Jeanie  felt  herself  lowered  at  once,  in  her 
own  eyes,  and  in  those  of  her  lover.  It  was  in  vain  that 
she  repressed  this  feeling,  as  far  subordinate  and  too  sel- 
fish to  be  mingled  with  her  sorrow  for  her  sister's  calam- 
ity. Nature  prevailed  ;  and  while  she  shed  tears  for  her 
sister's  distress  and  danger,  there  mingled  with  them  bit- 
ter drops  of  grief  for  her  own  degradation. 

As  Butler  entered,  the  old  man  was  seated  by  the  fire, 
with  his  well-worn  pocket-bible  in  his  hands,  the  com- 
panion of  the  wanderings  and  dangers  of  his  youth,  and 
beqi|^athed  to  him  on  the  scaffold  by  one  of  those,  who, 
in  the  year  1686,  sealed  their  enthusiastic  principles  with 
their  blood.  The  sun  sent  its  rays  through  a  small  win- 
dow at  the  old  man's  back,  and,  "  shining  motty  through 
the  reek,"  to  use  the  expression  of  a  bard  of  that  time 
and  country,  illumined  the  grey  hairs  of  the  sufferer,  and 
the  sacred  page  which  he  studied.  His  features,  far 
from  handsome,  and  rather  harsh  and  severe,  from  their 
expression  of  habitual  gravity,  and  contempt  for  earthly 
things,  had  an  expression  of  stoical  dignity  amidst  their 
sternness.  He  boasted,  in  no  small  degree,  the  attributes 
which  Southey  ascribes  to  the  ancient  Scandinavians, 
w^hom  he  terms  "  firm  to  resolve,  and  stubborn  to  en- 


136  TALES    or   MT   XANDLORD. 

dure."  The  whole  formed  a  picture,  of  which  the  lights 
might  have  been  given  by  Rembrandt,  but  the  outline 
Avoiild  have  required  the  force  and  vigour  of  Michael 
Angelo. 

Deans  lifted  his  eye  as  Butler  entered,  and  instantly 
withdrew  it,  as  from  an  object  which  gave  him  at  once 
surprise  and  sudden  pain.  He  had  assumed  such  high 
ground  with  this  carnal-witted  scholar,  as  he  had  in  his 
pride  termed  Butler,  that  to  meet  him  of  all  men,  under 
feehngs  of  humiliation,  aggravated  his  misfortune,  and 
vvas  a  consummation  like  that  of  the  dying  chief  in  the 
old  ballad — "  Earl  Percy  sees  my  fall." 

Deans  raised  the  Bible  with  his  left  hand,  so  as  partly 
to  screen  his  face,  and  putting  back  his  right  as  far  as  he 
could,  held  it  towards  Butler  in  that  posidon,  at  the  same 
time  turning  his  body  from  him,  as  if  to  prevent  his  see- 
ing the  working  of  his  countenance.  Butler  clasped  the 
extended  baud  which  had  supported  his  orphan  infancy, 
wept  over  it,  and  in  vain  endeavoured  to  say  more  than 
the  words, — "  God  comfort  you — God  comfort  you  !"  . 

"  He  will — he  doth,  my  friend,"  said  Deans,  assum- 
ing firmness  as  he  discovered  the  agitation  of  his  guest  ; 
"  he  doth  now,  and  he  will  yet  more,  in  his  own  gude 
time.  I  have  been  ower  proud  of  my  sufferings  in  a 
gude  cause,  Reuben,  and  now  I  am  to  be  tried  with  those 
wliilk  will  turn  my  pride  and  glory  into  a  reproach  and  a 
hissing.  How  muckle  better  1  hae  thought  myselj|iian 
them  that  lay  saft,  fed  sweet,  and  drank  deep,  wMn  I 
was  in  the  moss-haggs  and  moors,  wi'  precious  Donald 
Cameron,  and  worthy  Mr.  Blackadder,  called  Guess- 
again  !  and  how  proud  I  was  o'  being  made  a  spectacle 
to  men  and  angels,  having  stood  on  their  pillory  at  the 
Canongate  afore  I  was  fifteen  years  old,  for  the  cause  of 
a  national  covenant  !  To  think,  Reuben,  that  1,  wha  hae 
been  sae  honoured  and  exalted  in  my  youth,  nay,  when  I 
was  but  a  hafflins  callant,  and  that  hae  borne  testimony 
again  the  defections  o'  the  times  yearly,  monthly,  daily, 
hourly,  minutely,  striving  and  testifying  with  uplifted  hand 
and  voice,  crying  aloud,  and  sparing  not,  against  all  great 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-lOTHIAN.  137 

national  snares,  as  the  nation-wasting  and  church-sinking 
abomination  of  union,  toleration,  and  patronage,  imposed 
by  the  last  woman  of  that  unhappy  race  of  Stuarts  ;  also 
against  the  infringements  and  invasions  of  the  just  pow- 
ers of  eldership,  whereanent  I  uttered  my  paper,  called 
a  *  Cry  of  an  Howl  in  the  Desart,'  printed  at  the  Bow- 
head,  and  sold  by  all  flying  stationers  in  town  and  coun- 
try— and  now^^ 

Here  he  paused.  It  may  well  be  supposed  that  Butler, 
though  not  absolutely  coinciding  in  all  the  good  old  man'* 
ideas  about  church  government,  had  too  much  considera- 
tion and  humanity  to  interrupt  him,  while  he  reckoned  up 
with  conscious  pride  his  sufferings,  and  the  constancy  of 
his  testimony.  On  the  contrary,  when  he  paused  under 
the  influence  of  the  bitter  recollections  of  the  moment, 
Butler  instantly  threw  in  his  mite  of  encouragement. 

"  You  have  been  well  known,  my  old  and  revered 
friend,  a  true  and  tried  follower  of  the  Cross  ;  one  whoj 
as  Saint  Jerome  hath  it,  ^  per  Infamiam  et  bonam  famam 
grassari  ad  immortcditatem,^  which  may  be  freely  ren= 
dered,  '  who  rusheth  on  to  immortal  life,  through  bad 
report  and  ^ood  report.'  You  have  been  one  of  those  to 
whom  the  tender  and  fearful  souls  cry  during  the  mid- 
night solitude, — '  WatT^hman,  what  of  the  night  9— - 
Watchman,  what  of  the  niglrt  V — And,  .assuredly,  this 
heMK  dispensation,  as  it  comes  not  without  Divine  per- 
mifJIPi,  so  it  comes  not  without  its  special  commission 
and  use." 

"  I  do  receive  it  as  such,"  said  poor  Deans,  returning 
the  grasp  of  Butler's  hand,  "  and,  if  I  have  not  been 
taught  to  read  the  Scriptures  in  any  other  tongue  but  my 
native  Scottish,  (ev^en  in  his  distress  Butler's  Latin  quo- 
tation had  not  escaped  his  notice,)  I  have,  nevertheless, 
so  learned  them,  that  I  trust  to  bear  even  this  crook  in 
my  lot  with  submission.  But  O,  Reuben  Butler,  the 
kirk,  of  whilk,  though  unworthy,  I  have  yet  been  thought 
a  polished  shaft,  and  meet  to  be  a  pillar,  holding,  from 
my  youth  upward,  the  place  of  ruling  elder — what  will 

12^       VOL.    I. 


138  TALES    OF    MY   LANDLORD. 

the  lightsome  and  profane  think  of  the  guide  that  cannot 
keep  his  own  family  from  stumbling  9  How  will  they 
take  up  their  song  and  their  reproach,  when  they  see  that 
the  children  of  professors  are  liable  to  as  foul  backsliding 
as  the  offspring  of  Belial  !  But  I  will  bear  my  cross  with 
the  comfort,  that  whatever  showed  Hke  goodness  in  me 
or  mine,  was  but  like  the  light  that  shines  frae  creeping 
insects,  on  the  brae-side,  in  a  dark  night — it  kythes  bright 
to  the  ee,  because  all  is  dark  around  it ;  but  when  the 
morn  comes  on  the  mountains,  it  is  but  a  puir  crawling 
kail-worm  after  a'.  And  sae  it  shows,  wi'  ony  rag  of 
human  righteousness,  or  formal  law-work,  that  we  may 
pit  round  us  to  cover  our  shame." 

As  he  pronounced  these  words,  the  door  again  opened, 
and  Mr.  Bartoline  Saddletree  entered,  his  three-pointed 
hat  set  far  back  on  his  head,  with  a  silk .  handkerchief 
beneath  it,  to  keep  it  in  that  cool  position,  his  gold-head- 
ed cane  in  his  hand,  and  his  whole  deportment  that  of  a 
wealthy  burgher,  who  might  one  day  look  to  have  a  share 
in  the  magistracy,  if  not  actually  to  hold  the  curule  chair 
itself. 

Rochefoucault,  who  has  torn  the  veil  from  so  many 
foul  gangrenes  of  the  human  heart,  says,  we  find  some- 
thing not  altogether  unpleasant  to  us  in  the  misfortunes  of 
our  best  friends.  Mr.  Saddletree  would  have  been  very 
angry  had  any  one  told  him  that  he  felt  pleasure  ia.,the 
disaster  of  poor  Effie  Deans,  and  the  disgrace  Q^^her 
family  ;  and  yet  there  is  great  question  whether  the  grat- 
ification of  playing  the  person  of  importance,  inquiring, 
investigating  and  laying  down  the  law  on  the  whole  affair, 
did  not  offer,  to  say  the  least,  full  consolation  for  the  pain 
which  pure  sympathy  gave  him  on  account  of  his  wife's 
kinswoman.  He  had  now  got  a  piece  of  real  judicial 
business  by  the  end,  instead  of  being  obliged,  as  was  his 
common  case,  to  intrude  his  opinioi)  where  it  was  neither 
wished  nor  wanted  ;  and  felt  as  happy  in  the  exchange 
as  a  boy  when  he  gets  his  first  new  watch,  which  actually 
goes  when  wound  up,  and  has  real  hands  and  a  true  dial- 
plate.      But  besides  this  subject   for   legal  disquisition, 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAIf .  139 

Bartoline's  brains  were  also  overloaded  with  the  affair  of 
Porteous,  his  violent  death,  and  all  its  probable  conse- 
quences to  the  city  and  community.  It  was  what  the 
French  call  Pembarras  des  richesses,  the  confusion  arising 
from  too  much  mental  wealth.  He  walked  in  with  a  con- 
sciousness of  double  importance,  full  fraught  with  the 
superiorty  of  one  who  possesses  more  information  than 
the  company  into  which  he  enters,  and  who  feels  a  right 
to  discharge  his  learning  on  them  without  mercy.  "  Good 
morning,  Mr.  Deans, — good-morrow  to  you,  Mr.  Butler, 
— I  was  not  aware  that  you  was  acquainted  with  Mr. 
Deans." 

Butler  made  some  slight  answer  ;  his  reasons  may  be 
readily  imagined  for  not  making  his  connection  with  the 
family,  which,  in  his  eyes,  had  something  of  tender  mys- 
tery, a  frequent  subject  of  conversation  with  indifferent 
persons,  such  as  Saddletree. 

The  worthy  burgher,  in  the  plenitude  of  self-import- 
ance, now  sat  down  upon  a  chair,  wiped  his  brow,  collect- 
ed his  breath,  and  made  the  first  experiment  of  the  re- 
solved pith  of  his  lungs,  in  a  deep  and  dignified  sigh, 
resembhng  a  groan  in  sound  and  intonation — "  Awfu' 
times  these,  neighbour  Deans,  awfu'  times." 

''  Sinfu',  shamefu',  heaven-daring  times,"  answered 
Deans,  in  a  lower  and  more  subdued  tone. 

»T  my  part,"  continued  Saddletree,  swelling  with 
nee,  "  what  between  the  distress  of  my  friends, 
ana  my  poor  auld  country,  ony  wit  that  ever  J  had  may 
be  said  to  have  abandoned  me,  sae  that  1  sometimes  think 
myself  as  ignorant  as  if  I  were  inter  rusticos.  Here 
when  I  arise  in  the  morning,  wi'  my  mind  just  arranged 
touching  what's  to  be  done  in  puir  Effie's  misfortune,  and 
hae'  gotten  the  haill  statute  at  my  finger-ends,  the  mob 
maun  get  up  and  string  Jock  Porteous  to  a  dyester's 
beam,  and  ding  a'  thing  out  of  my  head  again." 
jMr  Deeply  as  he  was  distressed  with  his  own  domestic  ca- 
lamity, Deans  could  not  help  expressing  some  interest  in 
the  news.  Saddletree  immediately  entered  on  details  of 
the  insurrection  and  its  consequences,  while  Butler  took 


140  TALES    OF   MY    LANDLORD. 

the  occasion  to  seek  some  private  conversation  witli 
Jeanie  Deans.  She  gave  him  the  opportunity  he  sought, 
by  leaving  the  room,  as  if  in  prosecution  of  some  part  of 
her  morning  labour.  Butler  followed  her  in  a  few  min- 
utes, leaving  Deans  so  closely  engaged  by  his  busy  visiter, 
that  there  was  little  chance  of  his  observing  their  absence. 

The  scene  of  their  interview  was  an  outer  apartment, 
where  Jeanie  was  used  to  busy  herself  in  arranging  the 
productions  of  her  dairy.  When  Butler  found  an  oppor- 
tunity of  stealing  after  her  into  this  place,  he  found  her 
silent,  dejected,  and  ready  to  burst  into  tears.  In- 
stead of  the  active  industry  with  which  she  had  been  ac- 
customed, even  while  in  the  act  of  speaking,  to  employ 
her  hands  in  some  useful  branch  of  household  business, 
she  was  seated  listless  in  a  corner,  sinking  apparently 
under  the  weight  of  her  own  thoughts.  Yet  the  instant 
he  entered,  she  dried  her  eyes,  and,  with  the  simplicity 
and  openness  of  her  character,  immediately  entered  on 
the  conversation. 

"  1  am  glad  you  have  come  in,  Mr.  Butler,"  said  she, 
a  for — for — for  I  wished  to  tell  ye,  that  all  maun  be  end- 
ed between  you  and  me — it's  best  for  baith  our  sakes." 

"  Ended  !"  said  Butler,  in  surprise  ;  "  and  for  what 
should  it  be  ended  9 — I  grant  this  is  a  heavy  dispensa- 
tion, but  it  lies  neither  at  your  door  nor  mine — it's  an  evil 
of  God's  sending,  and  it  maun  be  borne  ;  but  it  jjonot 
break  plighted  troth,  Jeanie,  while  they  that  plight^jJPieir 
word  wish  to  keep  it." 

"  But,  Reuben,"  said  the  young  woman,  looking  at 
him  affectionately,  "  I  ken  weel  that  ye  think  mair  of  me 
than  yoursell  ;  and,  Reuben,  I  can  only  in  requital  think 
mair  of  your  weal  than  of  my  ain.  Ye  are  a  man  of 
spotless  name,  bred  to  God's  ministry,  and  a'  men  say 
that  ye  will  some  day  rise  high  in  the  kirk,  though  pov- 
erty keep  ye  down  e'en  now.  Poverty  is  a  bad  back- 
friend, Reuben,  and  that  ye  ken  ower  weel ;  but  ill  fame 
is  a  waur  ane,  and  that  is  a  truth  ye  sail  never  learn 
through  my  means." 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  141 

"  What  do  you  mean  9"  said  Butler,  eagerly  and  im- 
patiently ;  "  or  how  do  you  connect  your  sister's  guilt, 
if  guilt  there  be,  which,  I  trust  in  God,  may  yet  be  dis- 
proved, with  our  engagements  9 — how  can  that  affect  you 
or  me  9" 

"  How  can  you  ask  me  that,  Mr.  Butler  ?  Will  this 
stain,  d'ye  think,  ever  be  forgotten  as  lang  as  our  heads 
are  abune  the  grund  9  Will  it  not  stick  to  us,  and  to  our 
bairns,  and  to  their  very  bairns'  bairns  r*  To  hae  been 
the  child  of  an  honest  man,  might  hae  been  saying  some- 
thing for  me  and  mine  ;    but  to  be  the  sister  of  a 

O,  my  God  !" — With  this  exclamation  her  resolution 
failed,  and  she  burst  into  a  passionate  fit  of  tears. 

The  lover  used  every  effort  to  induce  her  to  compose 
herself,  and  at  length  succeeded  ;  but  she  only  resumed 
her  composure  to  express  herself  \^ith  the  same  positive- 
ness  as  before.  "  No,  Reuben,  I'll  bring  disgrace  hame 
to  nae  man's  hearth  ;  my  ain  distresses  I  can  bear,  and  I 
maun  bear,  but  there  is  nae  occasion  for  buckling  them 
on  other  folks'  shouthers.  I  will  bear  my  load  alone — 
the  back  is  made  for  the  burthen." 

A  lover  is  by  charter  wayward  and  suspicious ;  and 
Jeanie's  readiness  to  renounce  their  engagement,  under 
pretence  of  zeal  for  his  peace  of  mind  and  respectabili- 
ty of  character,  seemed  to  poor  Butler  to  form  a  por- 
tentous combination  with  the  commission  of  the  stranger 
he  YM  met  with  that  morning.  His  voice  faltered  as  he 
askea7  "  Whether  nothing  but  a  sense  of  her  sister's 
present  distress  occasioned  her  to  talk  in  that  manner  9" 

"  And  what  else  can  do  sae  9"  she  replied  whh  sim- 
plicity. "  Is  it  not  ten  long  years  since  we  spoke  togeth- 
er in  this  way  9" 

"  Ten  years  9"  said  Butler.  "  It  is  a  long  time — 
sufficient  perhaps  for  a  woman  to  weary" 

"  To  weary  of  her  auld  gown,"  said  Jeanie,  "  and  to 
wish  for  a  new  ane,  if  she  Hkes  to  be  brave,  but  not  lang 
enough  to  weary  of  a  friend — The  eye  may  wish  change, 
but  the  heart  never." 


142  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

"  Never  9"  said   Reuben, — "  that's  a  bold  promise." 

"  But  not  more  bauld  than  true,"  said  Jeanie,  with  the 
same  quiet  simplicity  which  attended  her  manner  in  joy 
and  grief,  in  ordinary  affairs,  and  in  those  which  most  in- 
terested her  feelings. 

Butler  paused,  and,  looking  at  her  fixedly — "  I  am 
charged,"  he  said,  "  with  a  message  to  you,  Jeanie." 

*'  Indeed  !  From  whom  9  Or  what  can  ony  ane  have 
to  say  to  me  9" 

"  It  is  from  a  stranger,"  said  Butler,  affecting  to  speak 
with  an  indifference  which  his  voice  belied — ''  A  young 
man  whom  I  met  this  morning  in  the  Park." 

"  My  God  !"  said  Jeanie,  eagerly ;  "  and  what  did  he 
say  V 

"  ^That  since  he  could  not  see  you  at  the  hour  he  pro- 
posed, he  required  you  should  meet  him  alone  at  Mus- 
chat's  Cairn  this  night,  so  soon  as  the  moon  rises." 

"  Tell  him,"  said  Jeanie,  hastily,  "  I  shall  certainly 
come." 

"  May  I  ask,"  said  Butler,  his  suspicions  increasing  at 
the  ready  alacrity  of  the  answer,  "  who  this  man  is  to 
whom  you  are  so  willing  to  give  the  meeting  at  a  place 
and  hour  so  uncommon  9" 

"  Folk  maun  do  muckle  they  have  little  will  to  do,  in 
this  world,"  replied  Jeanie. 

"  Granted,"  said  her  lover  ;  "  but  what  compels  you 
to  this  9 — who  is  this  person  9  What  I  saw  of  hiflL  was 
not  very  favourable — who,  or  what  is  he  9" 

"  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Jeanie,  composedly. 

"  You  do  not  know  !"  said  Butler,  stepping  impatient- 
ly through  the  apartment — "  You  propose  to  meet  a 
young  man  whom  you  do  not  know,  at  such  a  time,  and 
in  a  place  so  lonely — you  say  you  are  compelled  to  do  this 
— and  yet  you  say  you  do  not  know  the  person  who  ex- 
ercises such  an  influence  over  you  ! — Jeanie,  what  am  I 
to  think  of  this  V 

"  Think  only,  Reuben,  that  I  speak  truth,  as  if  I  were 
to  answer  at  the  last  day, — I  do  not  ken  this  man — I  do 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAST.  143 

not  even  ken  that  I  ever  saw  him,  and  yet  I  must  give 
him  the  meeting  he  asks — there's  life  and  death  upon  it." 

"  Will  you  not  tell  your  lather,  or  take  him  with  you  9" 
said  Butler. 

*'  I  cannot,"  said  Jeanie  ;  "  I  have  no  permission." 

"  Will  you  let  me  go  with  you  9  I  will  wait  in  the  Park 
till  nightfall,  and  join  you  when  you  set  out." 

"  It  is  impossible,"  said  Jeanie ;  "  there  raaunna  be 
mortal  creature  within  hearing  of  our  conference." 

"  Have  you  considered  well  the  nature  of  what  you 
are  going  to  do  9 — tlie  time — the  place — an  unknown 
and  suspicious  charticter^ — Why,  if  he  had  asked  to  see 
you  in  this  house,  your  father  sitting  in  the  next  room, 
and  within  call,  at  such  an  hour,  you  should  have  refused 
to  see  him." 

"  My  weird  maun  be  fulfilled,  Mr.  Butler  ;  my  life 
and  my  safety  are  in  God's  hands,  but  I'll  not  spare  to 
risk  either  of  them  on  the  errand  I  am  gaun  to  do." 

"  Then,  Jeanie,"  said  Butler,  much  displeased,  "  we 
must  indeed  break  short  off,  and  bid  farewell.  When 
the  re  can  be  no  confidence  betwixt  a  man  and  his  plight- 
ed wife  on  such  a  momentous  topic,  it  is  a  sign  that  she 
has  no  longer  the  regard  for  him  that  makes  their  en- 
gagement safe  and  suitable." 

Jeanie  looked  at  him  and  sighed.  "  I  thought,"  she 
said,  "  that  I  had  brought  myself  to  bear  this  parting — 
but — but — I  did  not  ken  that  we  were  to  part  in  unkind- 
ness.  "^  But  I  am  a  woman  and  you  are  a  man — it  may  be 
different  wi'  you — if  your  mind  is  made  easier  by  thinking 
sae  hardly  of  me,  I  would  not  ask  you  to  think  other- 
wise." 

*'  You  are,"  said  Butler,  "  what  you  have  always  been 
— wiser,  better,  and  less  selfish  in  your  native  feelings, 
than  1  can  be,  with  all  the  helps  philosophy  can  give  to  a 
Christian. — But  why — why  will  you  persevere  in  an  un- 
dertaking so  desperate  9  Why  will  you  not  let  me  be  your 
assistant — your  protector,  or  at  least  your  adviser  V 


144  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

"  Just  because  I  cannot,  and  I  dare  not,"  answered 
Jeanie. — "  But  hark,  what's  that  "?  Surely  ray  father  is 
no  weel." 

In  fact,  the  voices  in  the  next  room  became  obstreper- 
ously loud  of  a  sudden,  the  cause  of  which  vociferation 
it  IS  necessary  to  explain  before  we  go  farther. 

When  Jeanie  and  Butler  retired,  Mr.  Saddletree  en- 
tered upon  the  business  which  chieiiy  interested  the  fam- 
ily. In  the  commencement  of  their  conversation  he  found 
old  Deans,  who,  in  his  usual  state  of  mind,  was  nogranter 
of  propositions,  so  much  subdued  by  a  deep  sense  of  his 
daughter's  danger  and  disgrace,  that  he  heard  without  re- 
plying to,  or  perhaps  without  understanding,  one  or  two 
learned  disquisitions  on  the  nature  of  the  crime  imputed 
to  her  charge,  and  on  the  steps  which  ought  to  be  taken 
in  consequence.  His  only  answer  at  each  pause  was,  "  I 
am  no  misdoubting  that  you  wuss  us  weel — your  wife's 
our  far-awa'  cousin." 

Encouraged  by  these  symptoms  of  acquiescence,  Sad- 
dletree, who,  as  an  amateur  of  the  law,  had  a  supreme 
deference  for  all  constituted  authorities,  again  recurred 
to  his  other  topic  of  interest,  the  murder,  namely,  of  Por- 
teous,  and  pronounced  a  severe  censure  on  the  parties 
concerned. 

"  These  are  kittle  times — kittle  times,  Mr.  Deans, 
when  the  people  take  the  power  of  life  and  death  out  of 
the  hands  of  the  rightful  magistrate  into  their  ain  rough 
grip.  I  am  of  opinion,  and  so  1  believe  will  Mr.tCross- 
myloof  and  the  Privy-Council,  that  this  rising  in  efFeir  of 
war,  to  take  away  the  hfe  of  a  reprieved  man,  will  prove 
little  better  llian  perduellion." 

"  If  I  hadna  that  on  my  mind  that's  ill  to  bear,  Mr. 
Saddletree,**  said  Deans,  "  I  wad  make  bold  to  dispute 
that  point  wi'  you." 

"  How  could  ye  dispute  what's  plain  law,  man  •?"  said 
Saddletree,  somew^hat  contemptuously  ;  '*  there's  no  a 
callant  that  e'er  carried  a  pock  wi'  a  process  iivt,  but  will 
tell  you  that  perduellion  is  the  vvarst  and  maist  virulent 
kind  of  treason,  being  an  open  convocating  of  the  king's 


THE    HEART   OF   MID-I.OTHIAN.  145 

lieges  against  his  authority,  (mair  especially  in  arms,  and 
by  touk  of  drum,  to  baith  whilk  accessories  my  een  and 
lugs  bore  witness,)  and  muckle  warse  than  lese-majesty, 
or  the  concealment  of  a  treasonable  purpose — It  vvinna 
bear  a  dispute,  neighbour." 

"  But  it  will  though,"  retorted  Douce  Davie  Deans  ,• 
"  I  tell  ye  it  will  bear  a  dispute — T  never  like  your  cauid, 
legal,  formal  doctrines,  neighbour  Saddletree.  1  baud 
unco  httle  by  the  Parliament-House,  since  the  awfu' 
downfall  of  the  hopes  of  honest  folk  that  followed  the 
Revolution." 

"  But  what  wad  ye  hae  had,  Mr.  Deans  V  said  Sad- 
dletree, impatiently  ;  "  didna  ye  get  baith  liberty  and 
conscience  made  fast,  and  settled  by  tailzie  on  you  and 
your  heirs  forever  *?" 

"  Mr.  Saddletree,"  retorted  Deans,  "  I  ken  ye  are  one 
of  those  that  are  wise  after  the  manner  of  this  world,  and 
that  ye  baud  your  part,  and  cast  in  your  portion,  wi'  the 
lang-heads  and  lang-gowns,  and  keep  with  the  smart  witty- 
pated  lawyers  of  this  our  land — Weary  on  the  dark  and 
dolefu'  cast  that  they  hae  gi'en  this  unhappy  kingdom, 
when  their  black  hands  of  defection  were  clasped  in  the 
red  hands  of  our  sworn  murtherers  :  when  those  who  had 
numbered  the  towers  of  our  Zion,  and  marked  the  bul- 
warks of  our  Reformation,  saw  their  hope  turn  into  a 
snare,  and  their  rejoicing  into  weeping." 

"  1  canna  understand  this,  neighbour,"  answered  Sad- 
dletree. "  I  am  an  honest  presbyterian  of  the  Kirk  of 
Scotland,  and  stand  by  her  and  the  General  Assembly, 
and  the  due  administration  of  justice  by  the  fifteen  Lords 
o'  Session,  and  the  five  Lords  o'  Justiciary." 

"  Out  upon  ye,  Mr.  Saddletree  !"  exclaimed  David, 
who,  in  an  opportunity  of  giving  his  testimony  on  the  of- 
fences and  backsHdings  of  the  land,  forgot  for  a  moment 
his  own  domestic  calamity — "  out  upon  your  General  As- 
sembly, and  the  back  of  my  hand  to  your  Court  o'  Ses- 
sions ! — What  is  the  tane  but  a  w^aefu'  bunch  o'  cauldrife 
professors  and  ministers,  that  sat  bien  and  warm  when  the 

13       VOL.    I. 


146  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

persecuted  remnant  were  warstling  wi'  hunger,  and  cauld, 
and  fear  o'  death,  and  danger  of  fire  and  sword,  upon 
wat  brae-sides,  peat-haggs,  and  flow-mosses,  and  that  now 
creep  out  of  their  holes,  like  blue-bottles  in  a  blink  of 
sunshine,  to  take  the  pu'pits  and  places  of  better  folk — of 
them  that  witnessed,  and  testified,  and  fought,  and  endur- 
ed pit,  prison-house,  and  transportation  beyond  seas — A 
bonny  bike  there's  o'  them  ! — xVnd  for  vour  Court  o' 
SesFion" 

"  Ye  may  say  what  ye  will  o'  the  General  Assembly," 
said  Saddletree,  interrupting  him,  "  and  let  them  clear 
them  that  kens  them  ;  but  as  for  the  Lords  o'  Session, 
forbye  that  they  are  my  next-door  neighbours,  1  would 
have  ye  ken,  for  your  ain  regulation,  that  to  raise  scandal 
anent  them,  whilk  is  termed,  to  murmur  again  them,  is  a 
crime  sid  generis — sid  generis,  Mr.  Deans — ken  ye  what 
that  amounts  to  9" 

*'  I  ken  little  o'  the  language  of  antichrist,"  said  Deans  ; 
"  and  I  care  less  than  little  what  carnal  courts  may  call 
the  speeches  of  honest  men.  And  as  to  murmur  again 
them,  it's  what  a'  the  folk  that  loses  their  pleas,  and  nine- 
tenths  o'  them  that  win  them,  will  be  gay  sure  to  be  guilty 
in.  Sae  I  wad  hae  ye  ken  that  I  baud  a'  your  gleg- 
tongued  advocates,  that  sell  their  knowledge  for  pieces  of 
silver,  and  your  worldly-wise  judges,  that  will  gi'e  three 
days  of  hearing  in  presence  to  a  debate  about  the  peeling 
of  an  in2;an,  and  no  ae  half-hour  to  the  gospel  testimony, 
as  legalists  and  formalists,  countenancing,  by  sentences, 
and  quirks,  and  cunning  terms  of  law,  the  late  begun 
courses  of  national  defections — union,  toleration,  patron- 
ages, and  Yerastian  prelatic  oaths.  As  for  the  soul  and 
body-killing  Court  o'  Justiciary" 

The  habit  of  considering  his  life  as  dedicated  to  bear 
testimony  in  behalf  of  what  he  deemed  the  suffering  and 
deserted  cause  of  true  religion,  had  swept  honest  David 
along  with  it  thus  far  ;  but  with  the  mention  of  the  crim- 
inal court,  the  recollection  of  the  disastrous  condition  of 
his  daughter  rushed  at  once   on  his  mind  ;  he  stopped 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-tOTHIAX.  147 

short  in  the  midst  of  his  triumphant  declamation,  pressed 
his  hands  against  his  forehead,  and  remained  silent. 

Saddletree  was  somewhat  moved,  but  apparently  not  so 
much  so  as  to  induce  him  to  relinquish  the  privilege  of 
prosing  in  his  turn,  afforded  him  by  David's  sudden  si- 
lence. '*  Nae  doubt,  neighbour,"  he  said,  "  it's  a  sair 
thing  to  hae  to  do  wi'  courts  of  law,  unless  it  be  to  im- 
prove ane's  knowledge  and  practique,  by  waiting  on  as  a 
hearer  ;  and  touching  this  unhappy  affair  of  Effie — ye'li 
hae  seen  the  dittay  doubtless  9"  He  dragged  out  of  his 
pocket  a  bundle  of  papers,  and  began  to  turn  them  over. 
"  This  is  no  it — this  is  the  information  of  Mungo  Mars- 
port,  of  that  ilk,  against  Captain  Lackland,  for  coming  on 
his  lands  of  Marsport  with  hawks,  hounds,  lying-dogs, 
nets,  guns,  cross-bows,  hagbuts  of  found,  or  other  engines 
more  or  less,  for  destruction  of  game,  sic  as  red-deer, 
fallow-deer,  caper-cailzies,  grey-fowl,  moor-fowl,  patricks, 
herons,  and  sic  like  ;  he,  the  said  defender,  not  being 
ane  quahfied  person  in  terms  of  the  statute  sixteen  hun- 
dred and  twenty-ane  ;  that  is,  not  having  ane  plough-gate 
of  land.  Now  the  defences  proponed  say,  that  non  con- 
stat at  this  present  what  is  a  plough-gate  of  land,  vvhilk 
uncertainty  is  sufficient  to  elide  the  conclusions  of  the 
libel.  But  then  the  answers  to  the  defences,  (they  are 
signed  by  Mr.  Crossmyloof,  but  Mr.  Younglad  drew 
them,)  they  propone,  that  it  signifies  naething,  in  hoc  statUj 
what  or  how  muckle  a  plough-gate  of  land  may  be,  in 
respect  the  defender  has  nae  lands  whatsoe'er,  less  or 
mair.  '  Sae  grant  a  plough-gate'  "  (here  Saddletree 
read  from  the  paper  in  his  hand)  '  to  be  less  than  the 
nineteenth  part  of  a  guse's  grass,'  (I  trow  Mr.  Crossmy- 
loof put  in  that — I  ken  his  style,) — '  of  a  guse's  grass, 
what  the  better  will  the  defender  be,  seeing  he  hasna  a 
divot  cast  of  land  in  Scotland  ^ — Advocatus  for  Lack- 
land duplies,  that  iiihil  interest  de  possessione,  the  pursuer 
must  put  his  case  under  the  statute' — now,  this  is  worth 
your  notice,  neighbour, — *  and  must  show,  formaliter  et 
specialittr,  as  well  as  generaliter,  what  is  the  qualification 
that  defender  Lackland  does  not  possess — let  him  tell  me 


148  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

what  a  plough-gate  of  land  is,  and  I'll  tell  him  if  I  have 
one  or  no.  Surely  the  pursuer  is  bound  to  understand 
ills  own  libel,  and  his  own  statute  that  he  founds  upon. 
luiiis  pursues  Mav'ius  for  recovery  of  ane  black  horse 
if  lU  to  MaDvius — surely  he  shall  have  judgment  ;  but  if 
Titius  pursue  Msvius  for  ane  scarlet  or  crimson  horse, 
doubtless  he  shall  be  bound  to  show  that  there  is  sic  an 
animal  in  rerum  natura.  No  man  can  be  bound  to  plead 
to  nonsense — that  is  to  say,  to  a  charge  which  cannot  be 
explained  or  understood,' — (he's  wrang  there — the  better 
the  pleadings  the  fewer  understand  them,) — '  and  so  the 
reference  unto  this  undefined  and  unintelligible  measure 
of  land  is,  as  if  a  penalty  was  inflicted  by  statute  for  any 
man  who  suld  hunt  or  hawk,  or  use  lying-dogs,  without 

having  about  him  ane' But  I  am  wearying  you,    Mr. 

Deans,  we'll  pass  to  your  ain  business, — though  this  case 
of  iMarsport  against  Lackland  has  made  an  unco  din  in 
the  Outer-house — Weel,  here's  the  dittay  against  puir 
Effie  :  '  Vvhereas  it  is  humbly  meant  and  shown  to  us/ 
&,c.  (they  are  words  of  mere  style,)  '  that  where,  by  the 
laws  of  this  and  every  other  well-regulated  realm,  the 
murder  of  any  one,  more  especially  of  an  infant  child,  is 
a  crime  of  ane  high  nature,  and  severely  punishable  :  And 
whereas,  v/ithout  prejudice  to  the  foresaid  generality,  it 
was,  by  ane  act  made  in  the  second  session  of  the  First 
Parliament  of  our  most  High  and  Dread  Sovereigns  Wil- 
liam and  IMary,  especially  enacted,  that  ane  woman  who 
shall  have  concealed  her  condition,  and  shall  not  be  able 
to  show  that  she  hath  called  for  help  at  the  birlh,  in  case 
that  the  child  shall  be  found  dead  or  amissing,  shall  be 
deemed  and  held  guilty  of  the  murder  thereof ;  and  the 
said  facts  of  concealment  and  pregnancy  being  found 
proven  or  confessed,  shall  sustain  the  pains  of  law  ac- 
cordingly ;    yet  nevertheless,  you   Effie,   or  Euphemia 

Deans'  " 

"  Read  no  farther,"  said  Deans,  raising  his  head  up  ; 
"  I  would  rather  ye  thrust  a  sword  into  my  heart  than 
read  a  word  farther." 


THE    HEART   OF    MID-LOTHIAX.  149 

"  Weel,  neighbour,"  said  Saddletree,  "  I  thought  it 
wad  hae  comforted  ye  to  ken  just  the  best  and  the  warsi 
o't.     But  the  question  is,  what's  to  be  dune  '?" 

"  Nothing,"  answered  Deans  firmly,  "  but  to  abide  the 
dispensation  that  the  Lord  sees  meet  to  send  us.  O,  if 
it  had  been  His  will  to  take  the  grey  head  to  rest  before 
this  awful  visitation  on  my  house  and  name  !  But,  His 
will  be  done.  I  can  say  that  yet,  though  I  can  say  little 
raair." 

"  But,  neighbour,"  said  Saddletree,  "  ye'Il  retain  ad- 
vocates for  the  puir  lassie  ?  it's  a  thing  maun  needs  be 
thought  of." 

"  If  there  was  ae  man  of  them,"  answered  Deans, 
"  that  held  fast  his  integrity — but  I  ken  them  weel,  they 
are  a'  carnal,  crafty,  and  warld-hunting  self-seekers, 
Yerastians,  and  Arminians,  evary  ane  o'  them." 

"  Hout  tout,  neighbour,  ye  maunna  take  the  warld  at 
its  word,"  said  Saddletree  ;  "  the  very  de'il  is  no  sae  ill 
as  he's  ca'd  ;  and  I  ken  mair  than  ae  advocate  that  may 
be  said  to  hae  some  integrity  as  weel  as  their  neighbours  ; 
that  is,  after  a  sort  o'  fashion  o'  their  ain." 

"  It  is  indeed  but  a  fashion  of  integrity  that  yo  will  find 
amang  them,"  replied  David  Deans,  "  and  a  fashion  of 
wisdom,  and  fashion  of  carnal  learning — gazing,  glancing- 
glasses  they  are,  fit  only  to  fling  the  glaiks  in  folks  een, 
wi'  their  pawky  policy,  and  earthly  ingine,  their  flights 
and  refinements  and  periods  of  eloquence,  frae  heathen 
emperors  and  popish  canons.  They  canna,  in  tliat  daft 
trash  ye  were  reading  to  me,  sae  muckle  as  ca'  men  that 
are  sae  ill-starred  as  be  amang  their  hands,  by  ony  name 
o'  the  dispensation  o'  grace,  but  maun  new  baptize  them 
by  the  names  of  the  accursed  Titus,  wha  was  made  the 
instrument  of  burning  the  holy  Temple,  and  other  sic-like 
heathens." 

"  It'sTishius,"  interrupted  Saddletree,  "  and  no  Thus, 
Mr.  Crossrayloof  cares  as  little  about  Titus  or  the  Latin 
learning  as  ye  do. — But  it's  a  case  of  necessity — she 
maun  hae  counsel.     Now  I  could  speak  to  Mr.  Crossmy- 

13*       VOL.    I. 


150  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

]oof — he's  weel  kenned  for  a  round-spun  presbyterian,  and 
a  ruling  elder  to  boot." 

"  He's  a  rank  Yerastian,"  replied  Deans  ;  "  one  of  the 
public  and  polititious  warldly-wise  men  that  stude  up  to 
prevent  ane  general  owning  of  the  cause  in  the  day  of 
power." 

"  What  say  ye  to  the  auld  Laird  of  CufFabout  9"  said 
Saddletree  ;  "  he  whiles  thumps  the  dust  out  of  a  case 
gay  and  weel." 

"  He  9  the  fause  loon  !"  answered  Deans — ''  he  was 
in  his  bandaliers  to  hae  joined  the  ungracious  Highlanders 
in  1715,  an'  they  had  ever  had  the  luck  to  cross  the  Frith." 

"  Weel,  Arniston  ?  there's  a  clever  chield  for  ye,"  said 
Bartoline,  triumphantly. 

"  Ay,  to  bring  popish  medals  intill  their  very  library 
from  that  schismatic  woman  in  the  north,  the  Duchess  of 
Gordon." 

"  Weel,  weel,  but  somebody  ye  maun  hae — What  think 
ye  o'  Kittlepunt  *?" 

"  He's  an  Arminian." 

"  Woodsetter  V 

"  He's,  I  doubt,  a  Cocceian." 

«  Auld  Whilliewhaw  ?" 

"  He's  onything  ye  like." 

"  Young  Naemmo  9" 

"  He's  naething  at  a'." 

"  Ye're  ill  to  please,  neighbour,"  said  Saddletree  ;  "  I 
hae  run  ower  the  pick  o'  them  for  you,  ye  maun  e'en 
choose  for  yoursell ;  but  bethink  ye  that  in  the  multitude 
of  counsellors  there's  safety. — What  say  ye  to  try  young 
Mackenyie  ?  he  has  a'  his  uncle's  practiques  at  the 
tongue's  end." 

"  What,  sir  I  wad  ye  speak  to  me,"  exclaimed  the 
sturdy  presbyterian  in  excessive  wrath,  "  about  a  man  that 
has  the  blood  of  the  saints  at  his  fingers'  ends  9  Didna 
his  eme  die  and  gang  to  his  place  wi'  the  name  of  the 
Bluidy  Mackenyie  9  and  winna  he  be  kenned  by  that 
name  sae  lang  as  there's  a  Scots  tongue  to  speak  the  word  ^ 
If  the  life  of  the   dear  bairn  that's  under  a  suffering  dis- 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-tOTHlAX.  151 

pensation,  and  Jeanie's,  and  my  ain,  and  a'  mankind's,  de- 
pend on  my  asking  sic  a  slave  o'  Satan  to  speak  sae 
rauckle  as  a  word  for  me  or  them,  they  should  a'  gae 
down  the  water  thegither  for  Davie  Deans." 

It  was  the  exalted  tone  in  which  he  spoke  this  last  sen- 
tence that  broke  up  the  conversation  between  Butler  and 
Jeanie,  and  brought  them  both  "  ben  the  house,"  to  use 
the  language  of  the  country.  Here  they  found  the  poor 
old  man  half  frantic,  between  grief,  and  zealous  ire  against 
Saddletree's  proposed  measures,  his  cheek  inflamed,  his 
hand  clenched,  and  his  voice  raised,  while  the  tear  in  his 
eye,  and  the  occasional  quiver  of  his  accents,  showed  that 
his  utmost  efforts  were  inadequate  to  shaking  off  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  misery.  Butler,  apprehensive  of  the 
consequences  of  his  agitation  to  an  aged  and  feeble  frame^ 
ventured  to  utter  to  him  a  recommendation  to  patience. 

"  I  am  patient,"  returned  the  old  man,  sternly, — 
**  more  patient  than  any  one  who  is  alive  to  the  woful 
backslidings  of  a  miserable  time  can  be  patient  ;  and  in 
so  much,  that  I  need  neither  sectarians,  nor  sons  nor 
grandsons  of  sectarians,  to  instruct  my  grey  hairs  how  to 
bear  my  cross." 

"  But,  sir,"  continued  Butler,  taking  no  offence  at  the 
slur  cast  on  his  grandfather's  faith,  "  we  must  use  human 
means.  When  you  call  in  a  physician,  you  would  not,  I 
suppose,  question  him  on  the  nature  of  his  religious  prin- 
ciples 9" 

"  Wad  I  no  ?"  answered  David — "  But  I  wad  though  ; 
and  if  he  didna  satisfy  me  that  he  had  a  right  sense  of  the 
right-hand  and  left-hand  defections  of  the  day,  not  a  goutte 
of  his  physic  should  gang  through  my  father's  son." 

It  is  a  dangerous  thing  to  trust  to  an  illustration.  But- 
ler had  done  so  and  miscarried  ;  but,  like  a  gallant  soldier 
when  his  musket  misses  fire,  he  stood  his  ground,  and 
charged  with  the  bayonet. — "  This  is  too  rigid  an  inter- 
pretation of  your  duty,  sir.  The  sun  shines,  and  the  rain 
descends  on  the  just  and  unjust,  and  they  are  placed  to- 
gether in  life  in  circumstances  which  frequently  render 
intercourse  between  them  indispensable,  perhaps  that  the 


152  TALES    OF   MY   LANDLORD. 

evil  may  have  an  opportunity  of  being  converted  by  the 
good,  and  perhaps,  also,  that  the  righteous  might,  among 
other  trials,  be  subjected  to  that  of  occasional  converse 
with  the  profane." 

"  Ye're  a  silly  callant,  Reuben,"  answered  Deans, 
"  with  your  bits  of  argument.  Can  a  man  touch  pitch 
and  not  be  defiled  9  Or  what  think  ye  of  the  brave  and 
worthy  champions  of  the  Covenant,  that  wadna  sae  muokle 
as  hear  a  minister  speak,  be  his  gifts  and  graces  as  they 
would,  that  hadna  witnessed  against  the  enormities  of  the 
day  '?  Nae  lawyer  shall  ever  speak  for  me  and  mine  that 
hasna  concurred  in  the  testimony  of  the  scattered,  yet 
lovely  remnant,  which  abode  in  the  chits  of  the  rocks." 

So  saying,  and  as  if  fatigued,  both  with  the  arguments 
and  presence  of  his  guests,  the  old  man  arose,  and  seem- 
ing to  bid  them  adieu  with  a  motion  of  his  head  and  hand, 
went  to  shut  himself  up  in  his  sleeping  apartment. 

"  It's  thrawing  his  daughter's  hfe  avva',"  said  Saddletree 
to  Butler,  "  to  hear  him  speak  in  that  daft  gate.  Where 
will  he  ever  get  a  Cameronian  advocate  ?  Or  wha  ever 
heard  of  a  lawyer's  suffering  either  for  ae  religion  or 
another  '?  The  lassie's  hfe  is  clean  flung  avva'." 

During  the  latter  part  of  this  debate,  Dumbiedikes  had 
arrived  at  the  door,  dismounted,  hung  the  pony's  bridle 
on  the  usual  hook,  and  sunk  down  on  his  ordinary  settle. 
His  eyes,  with  more  than  their  usual  animation,  followed 
first  one  speaker,  then  another,  till  he  caught  the  melan- 
choly sense  of  the  whole  from  Saddletree's  last  words. 
He  rose  from  his  seat,  stumped  slowly  across  the  room, 
and,  coming  close  up  to  Saddletree's  ear,  said,  in  a  trem- 
ulous anxious  voice,  "  Will — will  siller  do  naething  for 
them,  Mr.  Saddletree  9" 

'*  Umph  !"  said  Saddletree,  looking  grave, — "  siller 
will  certainly  do  it  in  the  Parhament  House,  if  onything 
can  do  it  ;  but  whare's  the  siller  to  come  frae  1  Mr. 
Deans,  ye  see,  will  do  naething  ;  and  though  Mrs.  Sad- 
dletree's their  far-awa'  friend,  and  right  gude  weel-wisher, 
and  is  weel  disposed  to  assist,  yet  she  wadna  like  to  stand 
to  be  bound  singula  in  solidiim  to  such  an  expensive  wark. 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  153 

An'  ilka  friend  wad  bear  a  share  o'  the  burthen,  something 
might  be  dune — ilka  ane  to  be  Hable  for  their  ain  input — 
I  wadna  hke  to  see  the  case  fa'  through  without  being 
pled — it  wadna  be  creditable,  for  a'  that  daft  whig  body 
says." 

"  I'll — I  will — yes,"  (assuming  fortitude,)  "  1  will  be 
answerable,"  said  Dumbiedikes,  "  for  a  score  of  punds 
sterhng," — and  he  was  silent,  staring  in  astonishment  at 
finding  himself  capable  of  such  unwonted  resolution  and 
excessive  generosity. 

"  God  Almighty  bless  ye.  Laird  !"  said  Jeanie  in  a 
transport  of  gratitude. 

*'  Ye  may  ca'  the  twenty  punds  thretty,"  said  Dum- 
biedikes, looking  bashfully  away  from  her  and  towards 
Saddletree. 

"  That  will  do  bravely,"  said  Saddletree,  rubbing  his  ■ 
hands  ;  "  and  ye  sail  hae  a'  my  skill  and  knowledge  to 
gar  the  siller  gang  far — I'll  tape  it  out  weel — I  ken  how  to 
gar  the  birkies  tak  short  fees,  and  be  glad  o'  them  too — 
it's  only  garring  them  trow  ye  hae  twa  or  three  cases  of 
importance  coming  on,  and  they'll  work  cheap  to  get  cus- 
tom. Let  me  alane  for  whillying  an  iidvocate  ; — it's  nae 
sin  to  get  as  muckle  frae  them  for  our  siller  as  we  can — 
after  a',  it's  but  the  wind  o'  their  mouth — it  costs  them 
naething  ;  w^iereas,  in  my  wretched  occupation  of  a  sad- 
dler, horse-milliner,  and  harness-maker,  we  are  out  un- 
conscionable sums  just  for  barkened  hides  and  leather." 

"  Can  I  be  of  no  use  9"  said  Butler.  "  My  means, 
alas  !  are  only  worth  the  black  coat  I  wear  ;  but  I  am 
young — I  ow^e  much  to  the  family — Can  I  do  nothing  9" 

"  Ye  can  help  to  collect  evidence,  sir,"  said  Saddle- 
tree ;  "  if  we  could  but  find  ony  ane  to  say  she  had  gi'en 
the  least  hint  o'  her  condition,  she  wad  be  brought  afi^  wi' 
a  wat  finger — Mr.  Crossmyloof  tell'd  rhe  sae.  The 
crown,  says  he,  canna  be  craved  to  prove  a  positive — 
was't  a  positive  or  a  negative  they  couldna  be  ca'd  to 
prove  9 — it  was  the  tane  or  the  tither  o'  them,  1  am  sure, 
and  it  raaksna  muckle  matter  whilk.      Wherefore,  says 


164  TALES    OF    MY   lANDLORD. 

he,  the  libel  maun  be  redargued  by  the  pannel  proving 
her  defences.     And  it  canna  be  done  otherwise." 

*'  But  the  fact,  sir,"  argued  Butler,  "  the  fact  that  this 
poor  girl  has  borne  a  child  ;  surely  the  crown  lawyers 
must  prove  that  9"  said  Butler. 

Saddletree  paused  a  moment,  while  the  visage  of  Dum- 
biedikes,  which  traversed,  as  if  it  had  been  placed  on  a 
pivot,  from  one  spokesman  to  the  other,  assumed  a  more 
blithe  expression. 

"  Ye — ye — ye — es,"  said  Saddletree,  after  some  grave 
hesitation  ;  "  unquestionably  that  is  a  thing  to  be  proved, 
as  the  Court  will  more  fully  declare  by  an  interlocutor  in 
relevancy  in  common  form  ;  but  I  fancy  that  job's  done 
already,  for  she  has  confessed  her  guilt." 

"  Confessed  the  murder  !"  exclaimed  Jeanie,  with  a 
scream  that  made  them  all  start. 

"  No,  I  didna  say  that,"  rephed  Bartoline.  "  But  she 
confessed  bearing  the  babe." 

"  And  what  became  of  it,  then  9"  said  Jeanie  ;  "  for 
not  a  word  could  I  get  from  her  but  bitter  sighs  and  tears." 

"  She  says  it  was  taken  away  from  her  by  the  woman 
in  whose  house  it  was  born,  and  who  assisted  her  at  the 
time." 

"  And  who  was  that  w^oman  9"  said  Butler.  "  Surely 
by  her  means  the  truth  might  be  discovered. — Who  was 
she  '?  I  will  fly  to  her  directly." 

"  I  wish,"  said  Dumbiedikes,  "  I  were  as  young  and 
as  supple  as  you,  and  had  the  gift  of  the  gab  as  weel." 

"  Who  is  she  9"  again  reiterated  Butler  impatiently, 
— ''  Who  could  that  woman  be  9" 

"  Ay,  wha  kens  that  but  hersell  "?"  said  Saddletree  ; 
*'  she  deponed  further,  and  dechned  to  answer  that  inter- 
rogatory." 

"  Then  to  herself  will  I  instantly  go,"  said  Butler  ; 
"  farewell,  Jeanie  ;"  then  coming  close  up  to  her, — 
"  Take  no  rash  steps  till  you  hear  from  me.  Farewell !" 
and  he  immediately  left  the  cottage. 

*'  J  wad  gang  too,"  said  the  landed  proprietor,  in  an 
anxious,  jealous,    and  repining  tone,   "  but  my  powney 


THE    HEART    OP    MID-LOTHIAN.  155 

winna  for  the  life  o'  me  gang  ony  other  road  than  just 
frae  Duinbiedikes  to  this  house-end,  and  sae  straight  back 
again." 

"  Ye'll  do  better  for  them,"  said  Saddletree,  as  they 
left  the  house  together,  *'  by  sending  me  the  thretty 
punds." 

"  Thretty  punds  ?"  hesitated  Durnbiedikes,  who  was 
now  out  of  the  reach  of  those  eyes  which  had  indamed 
his  generosity  ;  ''  I  only  said  twenty  punds." 

"  Ay  ;  but,*'  said  Saddletree,  "  that  uas  under  protes- 
tation to  add  and  eik  ;  and  so  ye  craved  leave  to  amend 
your  hbel,  and  made  it  thretty." 

"  Did  19  1  dinna  mind  that  I  did,"  answered  Durn- 
biedikes. "  But  whatever  I  said,  I'll  stand  to."  Then 
bestriding  his  steed  with  some  difficulty,  he  added,  "  Din- 
na ye  think  poor  Jeanie's  een  with  the  tears  in  them  glanc- 
ed hke  lamour  beads,  Mr.  Saddletree  V 

"  I  kenna  muckle  about  women's  een,  Laird,"  replied 
the  insensible  Bartoline  ;  "  and  I  care  just  as  little.  1 
w^uss  1  were  as  weel  free  o'  their  tongues  ;  though  few 
wives,"  he  added,  recollecting  the  necessity  of  keeping  up 
his  character  for  domestic  rule,  "  are  under  bettei-  com- 
mand than  mine.  Laird.  1  allow  nehher  perduellion  nor 
laese-majesty  against  my  sovereign  authority." 

The  Laird  saw  nothing  so  important  in  this  observation 
as  lo  call  for  a  rejoinder  ;  and  when  they  had  exchanged 
a  mute  salutation,  they  parted  in  peace  upon  their  differ- 
ent errands. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

I'll  warrant  that  fellow  from  drowning,  were  the  ship  no  stronger  than  a 
nut-shell.  Tlie  Tempest. 

Butler  felt  neither  fatigue  nor  want  of  refreshment, 
although,  from  the  mode  in  which  he  had  spent  the  night, 


156  TALES    OF   MY    LANDLORD. 

he  might  well  have  been  overcome  with  either.  But,  in 
the  earnestness  with  which  he  hastened  to  the  assistance 
of  the  sister  of  Jeanie  Deans,  he  forgot  both. 

In  his  first  progress  he  walked  with  so  rapid  a  pace  as 
almost  approached  to  running,  when  he  was  surprised  to 
hear  behind  him  a  call  upon  his  name,  contending  with  an 
asthmatic  cough,  and  half-drowned  amid  the  resounding 
trot  of  an  Highland  pony.  He  looked  behind,  and  saw 
the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes  making  after  him  with  what 
speed  he  might ;  for  it  happened  fortunately  for  the  Laird's 
purpose  of  conversing  with  Butler,  that  his  own  road 
homeward  was  for  about  two  hundred  yards  the  same  with 
that  which  led  by  the  nearest  way  to  the  city.  Butler 
stopped  when  he  heard  himself  thus  summoned,  internally 
wishing  no  good  to  the  panting  equestrian  who  thus  re- 
tarded his  journey. 

"  Uh  !  uh  !  uh  !"  ejaculated  Dumbiedikes,  as  he 
checked  the  hobbling  pace  of  the  pony  by  our  friend 
Buder.  '*  Uh  !  uh  !  it's  a  hard-set  willyard  beast  this  o' 
mine."  He  had  in  fact  just  overtaken  the  object  of  his 
chase  at  the  very  point  beyond  which  it  would  have  been 
absolutely  impossible  for  him  to  have  continued  the  pur- 
suit, shice  there  Butler's  road  parted  from  that  leading  to 
Dumbiedikes,  and  no  means  of  influence  or  compulsion 
which  the  rider  could  possibly  have  used. towards  his  Bu- 
cephalus, could  have  induced  the  Celtic  obstinacy  of  Rory 
Bean  (such  was  the  pony's  name)  to  have  diverged  a  yard 
from  the  path  that  conducted  him  to  his  own  paddock. 

Even  when  he  had  recovered  from  the  shortness  of 
breath  occasioned  by  a  trot  much  more  rapid  than  Rory 
or  he  was  accustomed  to,  the  high  purpos-?  of  Dumbie- 
dikes seemed  to  stick  as  it  were  in  his  throat,  and  impede 
his  utterance,  so  that  Butler  stood  I  >r  nearly  three  minutes 
ere  he  could  utter  a  syllable,  and  .  hen  he  did  find  voice, 
it  was  only  to  say,  after  one  or  r- o  efforts,  "  Uh  !  uh  ! 
uhm  !  I  say,  Mr.  Butler,  it's  a  bi  iw  day  for  the  ha'rst." 

"  Fine  day,  indeed,"  said  Butler.  "  1  wish  you  good 
morninp;,  sir." 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.    ,  157 

"  Stay — stay  a  bit,"  rejoined  Dumbiedikes  ;  *'  that 
wasna  what  J  had  gotten  to  say." 

"  Then,  pray  be  quick,  and  let  me  have  your  com- 
mands," rejoined  Butler  ;  "  I  crave  your  pardon,  but  I 
em  in  haste,  and,  Ternpus  nemini — you  know  the  prov- 
erb." 

Dumbiedikes  did  not  know  the  proverb,  nor  did  he 
even  take  the  trouble  to  endeavour  to  look  as  if  he  did, 
as  others  in  his  place  might  have  done.  He  was  con- 
centrating all  his  intellects  for  one  grand  proposition,  and 
could  not  afford  any  detachment  to  defend  outposts. 

*'  I  say,  Mr.  Butler,"  said  he,  "  ken  ye  if  Mr.  Sad- 
dletree's a  great  lawyer  9" 

"  1  have  no  person's  word  for  it  but  his  own,"  answered 
Butler  drily  ;  "  but  undoubtedly  he  best  understands  his 
own  qualities." 

"  L'mph  !"  replied  the  taciturn  Dumbiedikes,  in  a  tone 
which  seemed  to  say,  "  Mr.  Buder,  I  take  your  mean- 
ing." "  In  that  case,"  he  pursued,  "  I'll  employ  my 
ain  man  o'  business  Nichil  Novit,  (auld  Nichil's  son,  and 
amaist  as  gleg  as  his  father,)  to  agent  Effie's  plea." 

And  having  thus  displayed  more  sagacity  than  Buder 
expected  from  him,  he  courteously  touched  his  gold- 
laced  cocked  hat,  and,  by  a  punch  on  the  ribs,  conveyed 
to  Rory  Bean,  it  vi^as  his  rider's  pleasure  that  he  should 
forthwith  proceed  homewards  ;  a  hint  which  the  quadru- 
ped obeyed  with  that  degree  of  alacrity  with  which  men 
and  animals  interpret  and  obey  suggestions  that  entirely 
correspond  with  their  own  inclinations. 

Butler  resumed  his  pace,  not  without  a  momentary  re- 
vival of  that  jealousy,  which  the  honest  Laird's  attention 
to  the  family  of  Deans  had  at  different  times  excited  in 
in  his  bosom.  But  he  was  too  generous  long  to  nurse  any 
feehng  which  was  alHed  to  selfishness.  "  He  is,"  said 
Buder  to  himself,  "  rich  in  what  I  want ;  why  should  I 
feel  vexed  that  he  has  the  heart  to  dedicate  some  of  his 
pelf  to  render  them  services,  which  I  can  only  form  the 
empty  wish  of  executixig  1-     In  God's  name  !  let  us  each 

14       VOL.    I. 


158  TALES    OF   MY   XANDLORD. 

do  what  we  can.  May  she  be  but  happy  ! — saved  from 
the  misery  and  disgrace  that  seems  impending — Let  me 
but  find  the  means  of  preventing  the  fearful  experiment 
of  this  evening,  and  farewell  to  other  thoughts,  though 
my  heart-strings  break  in  parting  with  them." 

He  redoubled  his  pace,  and  soon  stood  before  the  door 
of  the  Tolbooth,  or  rather  before  the  entrance  where  the 
door  had  formerly  been  placed.  His  interview  with  the 
mysterious  stranger,  the  message  to  Jeanie,  his  agitating 
conversation  with  her  on  the  subject  of  breaking  off  their 
mutual  engagements,  and  the  interesting  scene  with  old 
Deans,  had  so  entirely  occupied  his  mind  as  to  drown 
even  recollection  of  the  tragical  event  which  he  had  wit- 
nessed the  preceding  evening.  His  attention  was  not  re- 
called to  it  by  the  groups  Avho  stood  scattered  on  the  street 
in  conversation,  which  they  hushed  when  strangers  ap- 
proached, or  by  the  bustling  search  of  the  agents  of  the 
city  police,  supported  by  small  parties  of  the  military,  or 
by  the  appearance  of  the  Guard-House,  before  which 
were  treble  sentinels,  or,  finally,  by  the  subdued  and  in- 
timidated looks  of  the  lower  orders  of  society,  who,  con- 
scious that  they  v.ere  liable  to  suspicion,  if  they  were 
not  guihy  of  accession  to  a  riot  likely  to  be  strictly  in- 
quired into,  ghded  about  with  an  humble  and  dismayed 
aspect,  like  men  whose  spirits  being  exhausted  in  the 
revel  and  the  dangers  of  a  desperate  debauch  over  night, 
are  nerve-shaken,  timorous,  and  unenterprizmg,  on  the 
succeeding  day. 

None  of  these  symptoms  of  aiorm  and  trepidation  struck 
Butler,  whos&  mind  was  occupied  with  a  different,  and 
to  him  still  more  interesting  subject,  until  he  stood  before 
the  entrance  to  the  prison,  and  saw  it  defended  by -a 
double  file  of  grenadiers,  instead  of  holts  and  bars.  Their 
"  Stand,  stand,"  the  blackened  appearance  of  the  door- 
less  gateway,  and  the  winding  staircase  and  apartments 
of  the  Tolbooth,  now  open  to  the  public  eye,  recalled  the 
whole  proceedings  of  the  eventful  night.  Upon  his  re- 
questing to  speak  with    Effie  Deans,  the  same  tall,   thin, 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAX.  159 

silver-haired  turnkey,  whom  he  had  seen  on  the  preced- 
ing evening,  made  his  appearance. 

"  I  think,"  he  replied,  to  Butler's  request  of  admission, 
with  true  Scottish  indirectness,  "  ye  will  he  the  same  Idd 
that  was  for  in  to  see  her  yestreen  V 

Butler  admitted  he  was  the  same  person. 

"  And  I  am  diinking,"  pursued  the  turnkey,  "  that  ye 
speered  at  me  when  we  locked  up,  and  if  we  locked  up 
earher  on  account  of  Porteous?" 

"Very  likely  I  might  make  some  such  observation, "said 
Butler  ;  "  but  the  question  now  is,  can  I  see  Effie  Deans  ?" 

"  I  dinna  ken — gang  in  bye,  and  up  the  turnpike  stair, 
and  turn  till  the  ward  on  the  left  hand.  ' 

The  old  man  followed  close  behind  him,  whh  his  keys 
in  his  hand,  not  forgetting  even  that  huge  one  which  had 
once  opened  and  shut  the  outward  gate  of  his  dominions, 
though  at  present  it  was  but  uU  idle  and  useless  burthen. 
No  sooner  had  Butler  entered  the  room  to  which  he  was 
directed,  than  the  experienced  hand  of  the  warder  se- 
lected the  proper  key  and  locked  it  on  the  outside.  At 
first  Buder  conceived  this  manoeuvre  was  only  an  effect 
of  the  man's  habitual  and  official  caution  and  jealousy. 
But  when  he  heard  the  hoarse  command,  "  Turn  out  the 
guard  !"  and  immediately  afterwards  heard  the  clash  of 
a  sentinel's  arms,  as  he  was  posted  at  the  door  of  his 
apartment,  he  again  called  out  to  the  turnkey,  "  My 
igood  friend,  I  have  business  of  some  consequence  with 
Effie  Deans,  and  I  beg  to  see  her  as  soon  as  possible." 
No  answer  was  returned.  "  If  it  be  against  your  rules 
to  admit  me,"  repeated  Butler,  in  a  still  louder  tone, 
"  to  see  the  prisoner,  I  beg  you  vrill  tell  me  so,  and  let 
me  go  about  my  business. — Fugit  irrevocabile  tempus  /" 
muttered  he  to  himself. 

"  If  ye  had  buslnes  to  do,  you  suld  hae  dune  it  be- 
fore ye  cam  here,"  replied  the  man  of  keys  from  the 
outside  ;  "  ye'll  find  it  easier  wunnin  in  than  wunnin  out 
here — there's  sma'  hkelihood  o'  another  Porteous-moj 
coming  to  rabble  us  as;ain — the  law  will  baud  her  aio 
now,  neighbour,  and  that  ye'll  find  to  your  cost." 


160  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  sir  *?"  retorted  Butler. 
"  You  must  mistake  me  for  some  other  person.  My 
name  is  Reuben  Butler,  preacher  of  the  gospel. 

"  I  ken  that  weel  eneugh,"  said  the  turnkey. 

"  Well  then,  if  you  know  me,  1  have  a  right  to  know 
from  you  in  return,  what  w^arrant  you  have  for  detaining 
me  ;  that,  I  know,  is  the  right  of  every  British   subject." 

*'  Warrant  9"  said  the  jailor, — "  the  warrant's  awa'  to 
Libberton  wi'  twa  sheriff-officers  seeking  ye.  If  ye  had 
staid  at  hame,  as  honest  men  should  do,  ye  wad  hae  seen 
the  warrant ;  but  if  ye  come  to  be  incarcerated  of  your 
ain  accord,  wha  can  help  it,  my  jo  ?" 

"  So  I  cannot  see  Effie  Deans,  then,"  said  Butler  ; 
"  and  you  are  determined  not  to  let  me  out  9" 

"  Troth  will  I  no,  neighbour,"  answered  the  old  man, 
doggedly ;  "  as  for  Effie  Deans,  ye'll  hae  aneugh  ado  to 
mind  your  ain  business,  and  let  her  mind  hers ;  and  for 
letting  you  out,  that  maun  be  as  the  magistrate  will  deter- 
mine. And  fare  ye  weel  for  a  bit,  for  I  maun  see  Dea- 
con Sawyers  put  on  ane  or  twa  o'  the  doors  that  your 
quiet  folk  broke  down  yesternight,  Mr.  Butler." 

There  was  something  in  this  exquisitely  provoking,  but 
there  was  also  something  darkly  alarming.  To  be  im- 
prisoned, even  on  a  false  accusation,  has  something  in  it 
disagreeable  and  menacing  even  to  men  of  more  con- 
stitutional courage  than  Butler  had  to  boast ;  for  altliough 
he  had  much  of  that  resolution  which  arises  from  a  senses 
of  duty,  and  an  honourable  desire  to  discharge  it,  yet,  as 
his  imagination  was  lively,  and  his  frame  of  body  dehcate, 
he  was  far  from  possessing  that  cool  insensibihty  to  dan- 
ger, which  is  the  happy  portion  of  stronger  health,  more 
firm  nerves,  and  less  acute  sensibility.  An  indistinct  idea 
of  danger,  which  he  could  neither  understand  nor  ward 
off,  seemed  to  float  before  his  eyes.  He  tried  to  think 
over  the  events  of  the  preceding  night,  in  hopes  of  dis- 
covering some  means  of  explaining  or  vindicating  his 
conduct  for  appearing  among  the  mob,  since  it  immedi- 
ately occurred  to  him  that  his  detention  must  be  founded 
on  this  circumstance.      And  it  was  with  anxiety  that  he. 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAX.  161 

found  he  could  not  recollect  to  have  been  under  the  ob- 
servation of  any  disinterested  witness  in  the  attempts  that 
he  had  made  from  time  to  time  to  expostulate  with  the 
rioters,  and  to  prevail  on  them  to  release  him.  The  dis- 
tress of  Deans's  family,  the  dangerous  rendezvous  which 
Jeanie  had  formed,  and  which  he  could  not  now  hope  to 
interrupt,  had  also  their  share  in  his  unpleasant  reflections. 
Yet,  impatient  as  he  was  to  receive  an  eclaircissement  upon 
the  cause  of  his  confinement,  and  if  possible  to  obtain  his 
liberty,  he  was  affected  whh  a  trepidation  which  seemed 
no  good  omen  ;  when,  after  remaining  an  hour  in  this 
solitary  apartment,  he  received  a  summons  to  attend  the 
sitting  magistrate.  He  was  conducted  from  prison  strongly 
guarded  by  a  party  of  soldiers,  with  a  parade  of  precau- 
tion, that,  however  ill-timed  and  unnecessary,  is  generally 
displayed  after  an  event,  which,  if  used  in  time,  such  pre- 
caution might  have  prevented. 

He  was  introduced  into  the  Council  Chamber,  as  the 
place  is  called  where  the  magistrates  hold  their  sittings, 
and  which  was  then  at  a  little  distance  from  the  prison. 
One  or  two  of  the  senators  of  the  city  were  present,  and 
seemed  about  to  engage  in  the  examination  of  an  indi- 
vidual who  was  brought  forward  to  the  foot  of  the  long 
green-covered  table  round  which  the  council  usually  as- 
sembled. "  Is  that  the  preacher  f "  said  one  of  the  mag- 
istrates, as  the  city-officer  in  attendance  introduced  But- 
ler. The  man  answered  in  the  affirmative.  "  Let  him 
sit  down  there  for  an  instant ;  we  will  finish  this  man's 
business  very  briefly." 

"  Shall  we  remove  Mr.  Butler  9"  queried  the  assistant. 

"  It  is  not  necessary — Let  him  remain  where  he  is." 

Butler  accordingly  sat  down  on  a  bench  at  the  bottom 
of  the  apartment,  attended  by  one  of  his  keepers. 

It  was  a  large  room,  partially  and  imperfectly  lighted, 
but  by  chance,  or  the  skill  of  the  architect,  who  might 
happen  to  remember  the  advantage  which  might  occa- 
sionally be  derived  from  such  an  arrangement,  one  window 

14*       VOL.    I. 


162  TALES    or   MY   lANDLOftDi. 

was  so  placed  as  to  throw  a  strong  light  at  the  foot  of  the 
table  at  which  prisoners  were  usually  posted  for  examina- 
tion, while  the  upper  end,  where  the  examinants  sat,  was 
thrown  into  shadow.  Butler's  eyes  were  instantly  fixed 
on  the  person  whose  examination  was  at  present  proceed- 
ing, in  the  idea  that  he  might  recognize  some  one  of  the 
conspirators  of  T^^e  former  night.  But  though  the  fea- 
tures of  this  man  were  sufficiently  marked  and  striking, 
he  could  not  recollect  that  ever  he  had  seen  them  before. 

The  complexion  of  this  person  was  dark,  and  his  age 
somewhat  advanced.  He  wore  his  own  hair,  combed 
smooth  down,  and  cut  very  short.  It  was  jet  black, 
slightly  curled  by  nature,  and  already  mottled  with  grey. 
The  man's  face  expressed  rather  knavery  than  vice, 
more  a  disposition  to  sharpness,  cunning,  and  roguery, 
than  the' traces  of  stormy  and  indulged  passions.  His 
sharp,  quick,  black  eyes,  acute  features,  ready  sardonic 
smile,  promptitude,  and  effrontery,  gave  him  altogether 
what  is  called  among  the  vulgar  a  knowing  look,  which 
generally  implies  a  tendency  to  knavery.  At  a  fair  or 
market  you  could  not  for  a  moment  have  doubted  that 
he  was  a  horse-jockey,  intimate  with  all  the  tricks  of  his 
trade ;  yet  had  you  met  him  on  a  moor,  you  would  not 
have  apprehended  any  violence  from  him.  His  dress 
was  also  that  of  a  horse-dealer — a  close-buttoned  jockey- 
coat,  or  wrap-rascal,  as  it  was  then  termed,  with  huge 
metal  buttons,  coarse  blue  upper  stockings,  called  boot- 
hose,  supplying  the  place  of  boots,  and  a  slouched  hat. 
He  wanted  a  loaded  whip  under  his  arm,  and  a  spur 
upon  one  heel,  to  complete  the  dress  of  the  character  he 
seemed  to  represent. 

"  Your  name  is  James  RatclifFe  V  said  the  magistrate. 

it  Ay — always  wi'  your  honour's  leave." 

"  That  is  to  say,  you  could  find  me  another  name,  if  I 
did  not  like  that  ane'?" 

"  Twenty  to  pick  and  choose  upon,  always  with  your 
honour's  leave,"  resumed  the  respondent. 

"  But  James  RatclifFe  is  your  present  name  9 — what  is 
your  trade  V 


THE    HEART   OF   MID-LOTHIAX.  163 

"  I  canna  just  say,  distinctly,  that  I  have  what  ye  wad 
ca'  preceesely  a  trade." 

"  But,"  repeated  the  magistrate,  "  what  are  your 
means  of  living — your  occupation  9" 

"  Hout  tout — your  honour,  wi'  your  leave,  kens  that  as 
weel  as  I  do,"  replied  the  examined. 

"  No  matter,  1  want  to  hear  you  describe  it,"  said  the 
examinant. 

"  Me  describe  ? — and  to  your  honour  9 — far  be  it  from 
Jemmie  Ratchffe,"  responded  the  prisoner. 

"  Come,  sir,  no  trifiing — I  insist  upon  an  answer." 

"  Weel,  sir,"  replied  the  declarant,  "  I  maun  make  a 
clean  breast  ;  for  ye  see,  (wi'  your  leave,)  I  am  looking 
for  favour — Describe  my  occupation,  quo'  ye  .^ — troth  it 
will  be  ill  to  do  that,  in  a  feasible  way,  in  a  place  like  this 
— but  what  is't  again  that  the  aught  command  says  ?" 

"  Thou  shalt  not  steal,"  answered  the  magistrate. 

"  Are  ye  sure  o'  that  ? — Troth,  then,  my  occupation, 
and  that  command,  are  sair  at  odds  ;  for  1  read  it,  thou 
shall  steal ;  and  that  makes  an  unco  difference,  though 
there's  but  a  wee  bit  word  left  out." 

"  To  cut  the  matter  short,  Ratchffe,  you  have  been  a 
most  notorious  thief,"  said  the  examinant. 

"  I  believe  Highlands  and  Lowlands  ken  that,  sir,  for- 
bye  England  and  Holland,"  repHed  Ratcliffe,  with  the 
greatest  composure  and  effrontery. 

"  And  what  d'ye  think  the  end  o'  your  calling  will  be  ?" 
said  the  magistrate. 

"  I  could  have  gi'en  a  brave  guess  yesterday — but  I 
dinna  ken  sae  weel  the  day,"  answered  the  prisoner. 

"  And  what  would  you  have  said  would  have  been 
your  end,  had  you  been  asked  the  question  yesterday  9" 

"  Just  the  gallows,"  replied  Ratcliffe,  with  the  samie 
composure. 

"  You  are  a  daring  rascal,  sir,"  said  the  magistrate  ; 
"  and  how  dare  you  hope  times  are  mended  with  you 
to-day  9" 

"  Dear  your  honour,"  answered  Ratchffe,  "  there's 
muckle  difference  between  lying  in  prison  under  sentence 


164  TALES    OF    MT    LANDLORD. 

of  death,  and  staying  there  of  ane's  ain  proper  accord, 
when  it  would  have  cost  a  man  naething  to  get  up  and  rin 
awa' — what  was  to  hinder  me  from  stepping  out  quietly, 
when  the  rabble  walked  awa'  wi'  Jock  Porteous  yestreen  ? 
— and  does  your  honour  really  think  1  staid  on  purpose 
to  be  hanged  *?" 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  may  have  proposed  to 
yourself ;  but  I  know,"  said  the  magistrate,  "  what  the 
law  proposes  for  you,  and  that  is  to  hang  you  next 
Wednesday  eight  days." 

"  Na,  na,  your  honour,"  said  RatclifFe  firmly,  "  crav- 
ing your  honour's  pardon,  I'll  ne'er  believe  that  till  1  see 
it.  I  have  kenn'd  the  Law  this  mony  a  year,  and  mony 
a  thrawart  job  I  hae  had  wi'  her  first  and  last  ;  but  the 
auld  jaud  is  no  sae  ill  as  that  comes  to — I  aye  fand  her 
bark  waur  than  her  bite." 

"  And  if  you  do  not  expect  the  gallows,  to  which  you 
are  condemned,  (for  the  fourth  time  to  my  knowledge,) 
may  1  beg  the  favour  to  know,"  said  the  magistrate, 
"  what  it  is  that  you  do  expect  in  consideration  of  your 
not  having  taken  flight  with  the  rest  of  the  jail-birds, 
which  I  will  admit  was  a  line  of  conduct  little  to  have 
been  expected  from  you  V 

"  1  would  never  have  thought  for  a  moment  of  staying 
in  that  auld  gousty  toom  house,"  answered  Ratcliffe, 
"  but  that  use  and  wont  had  just  gi'en  me  a  fancy  to  the 
place,  and  I'm  just  expecting  a  bit  post  in't." 

"  A  post  !"  exclaimed  the  magistrate  ;  "  a  whipping- 
post, I  suppose  you  mean  9" 

"  Na,  na,  sir,  I  had  nae  thoughts  o'  a  whuppin-post. 
After  having  been  four  times  doomed  to  hang  by  the  neck 
till  I  was  dead,  I  think  I  am  far  beyond  being  whuppit." 

"  Then,  in  Heaven's  name,  what  did  you  expect  V^ 

"  Just  the  post  of  under-turnkey,  for  I  understand 
there's  a  vacancy,"  said  the  prisoner  ;  "  1  wadna  think 
of  asking  the  lockman's*  place  ower  his  head  ;  it  wadna 


*  Hanginan,  so  called  from  the  small  quantity  of  meal  (Scottice,  lock,)  which 
he  was  eaiitled  to  take  out  of  every  boll  exposed  to  market  in  the  city.     In 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  165 

suit  me  sae  weel  as  ither  folk,  for  I  never  could  put  a 
beast  out  o'  the  way,  much  less  deal  wi'  a  man." 

"  That's  something  in  your  favour,"  said  the  magis- 
trate, making  exactly  the  inference  to  which  Ratcliffe 
was  desirous  to  lead  him,  though  he  mantled  his  art  with 
an  affectation  of  oddity.  "  But,"  continued  the  magis- 
trate, "  how  do  you  think  you  can  be  trusted  with  a 
charge  in  the  prison,  when  you  have  broken  at  your  own 
hand  half  the  jails  in  Scotland  ?" 

"  Wi'  your  honour's  leave,"  said  Ratcliffe,  "  if  I 
kenn'd  sae  weel  how  to  wun  out  mysell,  it's  like  1  wad  be 
a'  the  better  a  hand  to  keep  other  folks  in.  I  think  they 
wad  ken  their  business  weel  that  held  me  in  when  I  want- 
ed to  be  out,  or  wan  out  when  I  wanted  to  baud  them  in." 

The  remark  seemed  to  strike  the  magistrate,  but  he 
made  no  further  immediate  remark,  only  desired  Ratcliffe 
to  be  removed. 

When  this  daring,  and  yet  sly  freebooter,  was  out  of 
hearing,  the  magistrate  asked  the  city-clerk,  "  what  he 
thought  of  the  fellow's  assurance  V^ 

"  It's  no  for  me  to  say,  sir,"  replied  the  clerk  ;  "  but 
if  James  Ratchffe  be  inclined  to  turn  to  good,  there  is 
not  a  man  e'er  came  within  the*ports  of  the  burgh  could 
be  of  sae  muckle  use  to  the  good  to\A'n  in  the  thief  and 
lock-up  Hne  of  business.  I'll  speak  to  Mr.  Sharpitlaw 
about  him." 

Upon  Ratcliffe's  retreat,  Butler  was  placed  at  the  table 
for  examination.  The  magistrate  conducted  his  inqujlj^ 
civilly,  but  yet  in  a  manner  which  gave  him  to  understand 
that  he  laboured  under  strong  suspicion.  Whh  a  frank- 
ness which  at  once  became  his  calling  and  character, 
Butler  avowed  his  involuntary  presence  at  the  murder  of 
Porteous,  and,  at  the  request  of  the  magistrate,  entered 


Edinburgh  the  duty  has  been  very  long  commuted  ;  but  in  Dumfries  the  finish- 
er of  the  law  still  exercises,  orrlid  lately  exercise,  his  privilege,  the  quantity 
taken  being  regulated  by  a  small  iron  ladle,  which  he  uses  as  the  measure  of 
his  perquisite.  The  expression  lock,  for  a  small  quantity  of  any  readily  divis- 
ible dry  substance,  as  com,  meal,  flax,  or  the  like,  is  sti'il  preserved,  not  only 
popularly,  but  in  a  legal  description,  as  the  lock  and  ^oicjjen,  or  small  quantity 
and  handful,  payable  in  thirlage  cases,  as  in-town  multure 


Wii 


166  TAiES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

into  a  minute  detail  of  the  circumstances  which  attended 
that  unhappy  affair.  All  the  particulars,  such  as  we  have 
narrated,  were  taken  minutely  down  by  the  clerk  from 
Butler's  dictation. 

When  the  narrative  was  concluded,  the  cross-examina- 
tion commenced,  which  it  is  a  paniful  task  even  for  the 
most  candid  witness  to  undergo,  since  a  story,  especially 
if  connected  with  agitating  and  alarming  incidents,  can 
scarce  be  so  clearly  and  distinctly  told,  but  that  some 
ambiguity  and  doubt  may  be  thrown  upon  it  by  a  string 
of  successive  and  minute  interrogatories. 

The  magistrate  commenced,  by  observing,  that  Butler 
had  said  his  object  was  to  return  to  the  village  of  Lib- 
berton,  but  that  he  was  interrupted  by  the  mob  at  the 
West-port.  "  Is  the  West-port  your  usual  way  of  leav- 
ing town  when  you  go  to  Libberton  '?"  said  the  magis- 
trate, vrith  a  sneer. 

"  No,  certainly,"  answered  Butler,  with  the  haste  of 
a  man  anxious  to  vindicate  the  accuracy  of  his  evidence  ; 
"  but  I  chanced  to  be  nearer  that  port  than  any  other, 
and  the  hour  of  shutting  the  gates  was  on  the  point  of 
striking." 

*'  That  was  unlucky*"  said  the  magistrate  drily. 
"  Pray,  being,  as  you  say,  under  coercion  and  fear  of  the 
lawless  multitude,  an  compelled  to  accompany  them 
through  scenes  disagreeable  to  all  men  of  humanity,  and 
more  especially  irreconcilable  to  the  profession  of  a  min- 
mllkr,  did  you  not  attempt  to  struggle,  resist,  or  escape 
from  their  violence  f " 

Butler  replied,  "  that  their  numbers  prevented  him 
from  attempting  resistance,  and  their  vigilance  from 
effecting  his  escape." 

"  That  was  unlucky,"  again  repeated  the  magistrate, 
in  the  same  dry  inacquiescent  tone  of  voice  and  manner. 
He  proceeded  with  decency  and  politeness,-  but  whh  a 
stiffness  which  argued  his  continued  suspicion,  to  ask 
many  questions  concerning  the  behaviour  of  the  mob, 
•the  manners  and  dress  of  the  ringleaders ;  and  when  he 
conceived  that  the  caution  of  Butler,  if  he  was  deceiving 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  167 

him,  must  be  lulled  asleep,  the  magistrate  suddenly  and 
artfully  returned  to  former  parts  of  his  declaration,  and 
required  a  new  recapitulation  of  the  circumstances,  to  the 
minutest  and  most  trivial  point  which  attended  each  part 
of  the  melancholy  scene.  No  confusion  or  contradic- 
tion, however,  occurred,  that  could  countenance  the  sus- 
picion which  he  seemed  to  have  adopted  against  Butler. 
At  length  the  train  of  his  interrogatories  reached  Madge 
Wildfire,  at  whose  name  the  magistrate  and  town-clerk 
exchanged  significant  glances.  If  the  fate  of  the  Good 
Town  had  depended  on  her  careful  mai^istrate's  knowing 
the  features  and  dress  of  this  personage,  his  inquiries 
could  not  have  been  more  particular.  But  Butler  could 
say  almost  nothing  of  this  person's  features,  which  were 
disguised  apparently  with  red  paint  and  soot,  like  an  In- 
dian going  to  battle,  besides  the  projecting  shade  of  a 
curch  or  coif,  which  muffled  the  hair  of  the  supposed 
female.  He  declared  that  he  thought  he  could  not  know 
this  Madge  Wildfire,  if  placed  before  him  in  a  different 
dress,  but  that  he  believed  he  might  recognize  her  voice. 

The  magistrate  requested  him  again  to  state  by  what 
gate  he  left  the  city. 

"  By  the  Cowgate-port,"   repHed  Butler. 

*'  Was  that  the  nearest  road  to  Libberton  f " 

"  No,"  answered  Butler,  with  embarrassment  ;  *'  but 
it  was  the  nearest  way  to  extricate  myself  frojn  the  mob." 

The  clerk  and  magistrate  again  exchanged  glances. 

*'  Is  the  Cowgate-port  a  nearer  way  to  Libberton,  from 
the  Grass-market,  than  Brisio-port  9" 

"  No,"  replied  Butler;  "  but  I  had  to  visit  a  friend." 

"  Indeed  ']"  said  the  interrogator—"  You  were  in  a 
hurry  to  tell  the  sight  you  had  witnessed,  I  supposed" 

"  Indeed  I  was  not,"  replied  Butler  ;  "  nor  did  I 
speak  on  the  subject  the  whole  time  I  was  at  Saint  Leon- 
ard's Crags." 

*'  Which  road  did  you  take  to  St.  Leonards  Crags  ?" 

"  By  the  foot  of  Salisbury  Crags,"  was  the  reply. 


168  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

"  Indeed  9 — you  seem  partial  to  circuitous  routes," 
again  said  the  magistrate.  "  Whom  did  you  see  after 
you  left  the  city  .^" 

One  by  one  he  obtained  a  description  of  every  one  of 
the  groups  which  had  passed  Butler,  as  already  noticed, 
their  number,  demeanour,  and  appearance  ;  and,  at  length, 
came  to  the  circumstance  of  the  mysterious  stranger  in 
the  King's  Park.  On  this  subject  Butler  would  fain  have 
remained  silent.  But  the  magistrate  had  no  sooner  got  a 
slight  hint  concerning  the  incident,  than  he  seemed  bent 
to  possess  himself  of  the  most  minute  particulars. 

"  Look  ye,  Mr.  Butler,"  said  he,  "  you  are  a  young 
man,  and  bear  an  excellent  character  ;  so  much  I  will 
myself  testify  in  your  favour.  But  we  are  aware  there 
has  been,  at  times,  a  sort  of  bastard  and  fiery  zeal  in  some 
of  your  order,  and  those,  men  irreproachable  in  other 
points,  Vv'hich  has  led  them  into  doing  and  countenancing 
great  irregularities,  by  which  the  peace  of  the  country  is 
liable  to  be  shaken. — I  will  deal  plainly  with  you.  I  am 
not  at  all  satisfied  with  this  story,  of  your  setting  out 
again  and  again  to  seek  your  dwelling  by  two  several 
roads,  which  were  both  circuitous.  And,  to  be  frank,  no 
one  whom  we  have  examined  on  this  unhappy  affair  could 
trace  in  your  appearance  anything  like  your  acting  under 
compulsion.  Moreover,  the  waiters  at  the  Cowgate-port 
observed  something  like  the  trepidation  of  guilt  in  your 
conduct,  and  declare  that  you  were  the  first  to  command 
them  to  open  the  gate,  in  a  tone  of  authority,  as  if  still 
presiding  over  the  guards  and  outposts  of  the  rabble,  who 
had  besieged  them  the  whole  night." 

"  God  forgive  them  !"  said  Butler  ;  *'  I  only  asked 
free  passage  for  myself ;  they  must  have  much  misun- 
derstood, if  they  did  not  wilfully  misrepresent  me." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Butler,"  resumed  the  magistrate,  "  I  am 
inclined  to  judge  the  best  and  hope  the  best,  as  I  am  sure 
I  wish  the  best  ;  but  you  must  be  frank  with  me,  if  you 
wish  to  secure  my  good  opinion,  and  lessen  the  risk  of 
inconvenience  to  yourself.  You  have  allowed  you  saw 
another   individual  in   your  passage  through  the  King's 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  169 

Park  to  Saint  Leonard's  Crags — I  must  know  every  word 
which  passed  betwixt  you." 

Thus  closely  pressed,  Butler,  who  had  no  reason  for 
concealing  what  passed  at  that  meeting,  unless  because 
Jeanie  Deans  was  concerned  in  it,  thought  it  best  to  tell 
the  whole  truth  from  beginning  to  end. 

•'  Do  you  suppose,"  said  the  magistrate,  pausing, 
"  that  the  young  woman  will  accept  an  invitation  so  mys- 
terious'?" 

"  I  fear  she  will,"  replied  Butler. 

"  Why  do  you  use  the  word /ear  it  *?"  said  the  mag- 
istrate. 

"  Because  I  am  apprehensive  for  her  safety,  in  meet- 
ing, at  such  a  time  and  place,  one  who  had  something  of 
the  manner  of  a  desperado,  and  whose  message  was  of  a 
character  so  inexplicable." 

"  Her  safety  shall  be  cared  for,"  said  the  magistrate. 
"  Mr.  Butler,  I  am  concerned  I  cannot  immediately  dis- 
charge you  from  confinement,  but  I  hope  you  will  not  be 
long  detained. — Remove  Mr.  Butler,  and  let  him  be  pro- 
vided with  decent  accommodation  in  all  respects." 

He  was  conducted  back  to  the  prison  accordingly  ; 
but,  in  the  food  offered  to  him,  as  well  as  in  the  apart- 
ment in  which  he  was  lodged,  the  recommendation  of  the 
magistrate  was  strictly  attended  to. 

15       VOL.    I. 


170  TALES   OF   MY  LANDLORD. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Dark  and  eerie  was  the  night, 

And  lonely  was  the  way, 
As  Janet,  wi'  her  green  mantell, 

To  Miles'  Cross  she  did  gae. 

Old  Ballad. 

Leaving  Butler  to  all  the  uncomfortable  thoughts  at- 
tached to  his  new  situation,  among  which  the  most  pre- 
dominant was  his  feeling  that  he  was,  by  his  confinement, 
deprived  of  all  possibility  of  assisting  the  family  at  St. 
Leonard's  in  their  greatest  need,  we  return  to  Jeanie 
Deans,  who  had  seen  him  depart,  without  an  opportunity 
of  further  explanation,  in  all  that  agony  of  mind  with 
which  the  female  heart  bids  adieu  to  the  complicated 
sensations  so  well  described  by  Coleridge, — 

Hopes,  and  fears  that  kindle  hope. 

An  undistinguishable  throng  ; 
And  gentle  ^^  ishes  long  subdued — 

Subdued  and  cherish'd  long. 

It  is  not  the  firmest  heart  (and  Jeanie,  under  her  rus- 
set rokelay,  had  one  that  would  not  have  disgraced  Cato's 
daughter)  that  can  most  easily  bid  adieu  to  these  soft  and 
mingled  emotioiis.  She  wept  for  a  few  minutes  bitterly, 
and  without  attempting  to  refrain  from  this  indulgence  of 
passion.  But  a  moment's  recollection  induced  her  to 
check  herself  for  a  grief  selfish  and  proper  to  her  own 
affections,  while  her  father  and  sister  were  plunged  into 
such  deep  and  irretrievable  affliction.  She  drew  from  her 
pocket  the  letter  which  had  been  that  morning  flung  into 
her  apartment  through  an  open  window,  and  the  contents 
of  which  were  as  singular  as  the  expression  was  \dolent 
and  energetic.  "  If  she  w^ould  save  a  human  being  from 
the  most  damning  guilt,  and  all  its  desperate  consequen- 
ces,— if  she  desired  the  life  and  honour  of  her  sister  to 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAX.  ITi 

be  saved  from  the  bloody  fangs  of  an  unjust  law, — if  she 
desired  not  to  forfeit  peace  of  mind  here,  and  happiness 
hereafter,'*  such  was  the  frantic  style  of  the  conjuration, 
'•  she  was  entreated  to  give  a  sure,  secret,  and  solitary 
meeting  to  the  writer.  She  alone  could  rescue  him,"  so 
ran  the  letter,  "  and  he  only  could  rescue  her."  He 
w^as  in  such  circumstances,  the  billet  farther  informed 
her,  that  an  attempt  to  bring  any  witness  of  their  confer- 
ence, or  even  to  mention  to  her  father,  or  any  other  per- 
son whatsoever,  the  letter  which  requested  it,  would  inev- 
itably prevent  its  taking  place,  and  insure  the  destruction 
of  her  sister.  The  letter  concluded  with  incoherent  but 
violent  protestations,  that  in  obeying  this  summons  she 
had  nothing  to  fear  personally. 

The  message  delivered  to  her  by  Butler  from  the 
stranger  in  the  Park  talhed  exactly  with  the  contents  of 
the  letter,  but  assigned  a  later  hour  and  a  different  place 
of  meeting.  Apparently  the  writer  of  the  letter  had 
been  compelled  to  let  Butler  so  far  into  his  confidence, 
for  the  sake  of  announcing  this  change  to  Jeanie.  She 
was  more  than  once  on  the  point  of  producing  the  billet, 
in  vindication  of  herself  from  her  lover's  half-hinted  sus- 
picions. But  there  is  something  in  stooping  to  justifica- 
tion which  the  pride  of  innocence  does  not  at  all  times 
willingly  submit  to,  besides  that  the  threats  contained  in 
the  letter,  in  case  of  her  betraying  the  secret,  hung  heavy 
on  her  heart.  It  is  probable,  however,  that  had  they  re- 
mained longer  together,  she  might  have  taken  the  resolu- 
tion to  submit  the  whole  matter  to  Butler,  and  be  guided 
by  him  as  to  the  line  of  conduct  which  she  should  adopt. 
And  when,  by  the  sudden  interruption  of  their  confer- 
ence, she  lost  the  opportunity  of  doing  so,  she  felt  as  if 
she  had  been  unjust  to  a  friend,  whose  advice  might  have 
been  highly  useful,  and  whose  attachment  deserved  her 
full  and  unreserved  confidence. 

To  have  recourse  to  her  father  upon  this  occasion,  she 
considered  as  highly  imprudent.  There  was  nopossiuil- 
ity  of  conjecturing  in  what  light  the  matter  misht  strike 
old  David,  whose  manner  of  acting  and  thinking  in  ex- 


172  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

traordinary  circumstances  depended  upon  feelings  and 
principles  peculiar  to  himself,  and  the  operation  of  which 
could  not  be  calculated  upon  even  by  those  best  acquaint- 
ed with  him.  To  have  requested  some  female  friend  to 
have  accompanied  her  to  the  place  of  rendezvous,  would 
perhaps  have  been  the  most  eligible  expedient ;  but  the 
threats  of  the  writer,  that  betraying  his  secret  would  pre- 
vent their  meeting  (on  which  her  sister's  safety  was  said 
to  depend)  from  taking  place  at  all,  would  have  deterred 
her  from  making  such  a  confidence,  even  had  she  known 
a  person  in  whom  she  thought  it  could  with  safety  have 
been  reposed.  But  she  knew  none  such.  Their  ac- 
quaintance with  the  cottagers  in  the  vicinity  had  been 
very  slight,  and  Hmited  to  httle  trifling  acts  of  good  neigh- 
bourhood. Jeanie  knew  little  of  them,  and  what  she 
knew  did  not  greatly  incline  her  to  trust  any  of  them. 
They  were  of  the  order  of  loquacious  good-humoured 
gossips  usually  found  in  their  situation  of  life  ;  and  their 
conversation  had  at  all  times  few  charms  for  a  young 
woman,  to  whom  nature  and  the  circumstance  of  a  soli- 
tary hfe  had  given  a  depth  of  thought  and  force  of  char- 
acter, superior  to  the  frivolous  part  of  her  sex,  whether 
in  high  or  low  degree. 

Left  alone  and  separated  from  all  earthly  counsel,  she 
had  recourse  to  a  friend  and  adviser,  whose  ear  is  open 
to  the  cry  of  the  poorest  and  most  afflicted  of  his  people. 
She  knelt,  and  prayed  with  fervent  sincerity,  that  God 
would  please  to  direct  her  what  course  to  follow  in  her 
arduous  and  distressing  situation.  It  was  the  belief  of 
the  time  and  sect  to  which  she  belonged,  that  special  an- 
swers to  prayer,  differing  little  in  their  character  from 
divine  inspiration,  were,  as  they  expressed  it,  '•  borne  in 
upon  their  minds,"  in  answer  to  their  earnest  petitions  in  a 
crisis  of  difficulty.  Without  entering  into  an  abstruse  point 
of  divinity,  one  thing  is  plain  ;  namely,  that  the  person 
who  lays  open  his  doubts  and  distresses  in  prayer,  with 
feeling  and  sincerity,  must  necessarily,  in  the  act  of  doing 
so,  purify  his  mind  from  the  dross  of  worldly  passions 
and  interests,  and  bring  it  into  that  state,  when  the  reso- 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  173 

lutions  adopted  are  likely  to  be  selected  rather  from  a 
sense  of  duty,  than  from  any  inferior  motive.  Jeanie 
arose  from  her  devotions,  with  her  heart  fortified  to  en- 
dure affliction,  and  encouraged  to  face  difficulties. 

"  I  will  meet  with  this  unhappy  man,"  she  said  to 
herself — "  unhappy  he  must  be,  since  I  doubt  he  has 
been  the  cause  of  poor  Effie's  misfortune — but  I  will 
meet  him,  be  it  for  good  or  ill.  My  mind  shall  never 
cast  up  to  me,  that,  for  fear  of  what  might  be  said  or 
done  to  me,  I  left  that  undone  that  might  even  yet  be  the 
rescue  of  her." 

With  a  mind  greatly  composed  since  the  adoption  of 
this  resolution,  she  went  to  attend  her  father.  The  old 
man,  firm  in  the  principles  of  his  youth,  did  not,  in  out- 
ward appearance  at  least,  permit  a  thought  of  his  family 
distress  to  interfere  with  the  stoical  reserve  of  his  coun- 
tenance and  manners.  He  even  chid  his  daughter  for 
having  neglected,  in  the  distress  of  the  morning,  some 
trifling  domestic  duties  which  fell  under  her  department. 

"  Why,  what  meaneth  this,  Jeanie  9"  said  the  old  man 
— "  The  brown  four-year-auld's  milk  is  not  seiled  yet, 
nor  the  bowies  put  up  on  the  bink.  If  ye  neglect  your 
warldly  duties  in  the  day  of  affliction,  what  confidence 
have  I  that  ye  mind  the  greater  matters  that  concern  sal- 
vation 9  God  knows,  our  bowies,  and  our  pipkins,  and 
our  draps  o'  milk,  and  our  bits  o'  bread,  are  nearer  and 
dearer  to  us  than  the  bread  of  life." 

Jeanie,  not  unpleased  to  hear  her  father's  thoughts  thus 
expand  themselves  beyond  the  sphere  of  his  immediate 
distress,  obeyed  him,  and  proceeded  to  put  her  house- 
hold matters  in  order;  while  old  David  moved  from 
place  to  place  about  his  ordinary  employments,  scarce 
showing,  unless  by  a  nervous  impatience  at  remaining  long 
stationary,  an  occasional  convulsive  sigh,  or  twinkle  of  the 
eye-lid,  that  he  was  labouring  under  the  yoke  of  such 
bitter  affliction. 

The  hour  of  noon  came  on,  and  the  father  and  child 
sat  down  to  their  homely  repast.      In  his  petition  for  a 

15*       VOL.    I. 


174  TALES    OF   MY    LANDLORD, 

blessing  on  the  meal,  the  poor  old  man  added  to  his  sup- 
plication, a  prayer  that  the  bread  eaten  in  bitterness,  and 
the  waters  of  Merah,  might  be  made  as  nourishing  as 
those  which  had  been  poured  forth  from  a  full  cup  and  a 
plentiful  basket  and  store  ;  and  having  concluded  his  ben- 
ediction, and  resumed  the  bonnet  which  he  had  laid  "  rev- 
erently aside,"  he  proceeded  to  exhort  his  daughter  to 
eat,  not  by  example  indeed,  but  at  least  by  precept. 

"  The  man  after  God's  own  heart,"  he  said,  "  washed 
and  anointed  himself,  and  did  eat  bread,  in  order  to  ex- 
press his  submission  under  a  dispensation  of  suffering,  and 
it  did  not  become  a  Christian  man  or  woman  so  to  cling 
to  creature-comforts  of  wife  or  bairns," — (here  the  words 
became  too  great,  as  it  were,  for  his  utterance) — "  as  to 
forget  the  first  duty — submission  to  the  Divine  will." 

To  add  force  to  his  precept,  he  took  a  morsel  on  his 
plate,  but  nature  proved  too  strong  even  for  the  powerful 
feelings  with  which  he  endeavoured  to  bridle  it.  Asham- 
ed of  his  weakness,  he  started  up,  and  ran  out  of  the 
house,  with  haste  very  unlike  the  dehberation  of  his  usual 
movements.  In  less  than  five  minutes  he  returned,  hav- 
ing successfully  struggled  to  recover  his  usual  composure 
of  mind  and  countenance,  and  affected  to  colour  over  his 
late  retreat,  by  muttering  that  he  thought  he  heard  "  the 
young  staig  loose  in  the  byre." 

He  did  not  again  trust  himself  with  the  subject  of  his 
former  conversation,  and  his  daughter  was  glad  to  see  that 
he  seemed  to  avoid  farther  discourse  on  that  agitating 
topic.  The  hours  glided  on,  as  on  they  must  and  do  pass, 
whether  winged  with  joy  or  laden  with  affliction.  The 
sun  set  beyond  the  dusky  eminence  of  the  Castle,  and  the 
screen  of  western  hills,  and  the  close  of  day  summoned 
David  Deans  and  his  daughter  to  the  family  duty  of  the 
evening.  It  came  bitterly  upon  Jeanie's  recollection,  how 
often,  when  the  hour  of  worship  approached,  she  used  to 
watch  the  lengthening  shadows,  and  look  out  from  the  door 
of  the  house,  to  see  if  she  could  spy  her  sister's  return 
homeward.  Alas  !  this  idle  and  thoughtless  waste  of  time, 
to  what  evils  had  it  not  finally  led  *?  and  was  she   alto- 


THE    HEART    OP   MID-LOTHIAX.  175 

gether  guiltless,  who,  noticing  Effie's  turn  to  idle  and  light 
society,  had  not  called  in  her  father's  authority  to  restrain 
her  '] — But  I  acted  for  the  best,  she  again  reflected  ;  and 
who  could  have  expected  such  a  flood  of  evil  from  one 
grain  of  human  leven,  in  a  disposition  so  kind,  and  can- 
did, and  generous  ? 

As  they  sat  down  to  the  "  exercise,"  as  it  is  called,  a 
chair  happened  accidentally  to  stand  in  the  place  which 
Effie  usually  occupied.  David  Deans  saw  his  daughter's 
eyes  swim  in  tears  as  they  were  directed  towards  this  ob- 
ject, and  pushed  it  aside,  with  a  gesture  of  some  impa- 
tience, as  if  desirous  to  destroy  every  memorial  of  earthly 
interest  when  about  to  address  the  Deity.  The  portion 
of  scripture  was  read,  the  psalm  was  sung,  the  prayer  was 
made  ;  and  it  was  remarkable,  that,  in  discharging  these 
duties,  the  old  man  avoided  all  passages  and  expressions, 
of  which  Scripture  affords  so  many,  that  might  be  con- 
sidered as  applicable  to  his  own  domestic  misfortunes. 
In  doing  so  it  w^as  perhaps  his  intention  to  spare  the  feel- 
ings of  his  daughter,  as  well  as  to  maintain,  in  outward 
show  at  least,  that  stoical  appearance  of  patient  endurance 
of  all  the  evil  which  earth  could  bring,  which  was,  in  his 
opinion,  essential  to  the  character  of  one  who  rated  all 
earthly  things  at  their  own  just  estimate  of  nothingness. 
When  he  had  finished  the  duty  of  the  evening,  he  came 
up  to  his  daughter,  wished  her  good-night,  and,  having 
done  so,  continued  to  hold  her  by  the  hands  for  half  a 
minute  ;  then  drawing  her  towards  him,  kissed  her  fore- 
head, and  ejaculated,  "  The  God  of  Israel  bless  you,  even 
whh  the  blessings  of  the  promise,  my  dear  bairn  !" 

It  was  not  either  in  the  nature  or  habits  of  David  Deans 
to  seem  a  fond  father  ;  nor  was  he  often  known  to  expe- 
rience, or  at  least  to  evince,  that  fulness  of  the  heart  which 
seeks  to  expand  itself  in  tender  expressions  or  caresses 
even  to  those  who  were  dearest  to  him.  On  the  contrary, 
he  used  to  censure  this  as  a  degree  of  weakness  in  several 
of  his  neighbours,  and  particularly  in  poor  widow  Butler. 
It  followed,  however,  from  the  rarity  of  such  emotions  in 
this  self-denied  and  reserved  man,  that  his  children  attach- 


176  TAXES    OF   MY   LANDLORD. 

ed  to  occasional  marks  of  his  affection  and  approbation  a 
degree  of  high  interest  and  solemnity  ;  well  considering 
them  as  evidences  of  feelings  which  were  only  exhibited 
when  they  became  too  intense  for  suppression  or  con- 
cealment. 

With  deep  emotion,  therefore,  did  he  bestow,  and  his 
daughter  receive,  this  benediction  and  paternal  caress. 
"  And  you,  my  dear  father,"  exclaimed  Jeanie,  when  the 
door  had  closed  upon  the  venerable  old  man,  "  may  you 
have  purchased  and  promised  blessings  multiphed  .upon 
you — upon  you,  who  walk  in  this  world  as  though  you 
were  not  of  the  world,  and  hold  all  tiiat  it  can  give  or  take 
from  3'ou  but  as  the  midges  that  the  sun-bhnk  brings  out, 
and  the  evening  wind  sweeps  away  !" 

She  now  made  preparation  {qx  her  night-walk.  Her 
father  slept  in  another  part  of  the  dwelling,  and,  regular 
in  all  his  habits,  seldom  or  never  left  his  apartment  when 
he  had  betaken  himself  to  it  for  the  evening.  It  was 
therefore  easy  for  her  to  leave  the  house  unobserved,  so 
soon  as  the  time  approached  at  which  she  was  to  keep 
her  appointment.  But  the  step  she  was  about  to  take  had 
difficulties  and  terrors  in  her  own  eyes,  though  she  had  no 
reason  to  apprehend  her  father's  interference.  Her  life 
had  been  spent  in  the  quiet,  uniforu],  and  regular  seclu- 
sion of  their  peaceful  and  monotonous  household.  The 
very  hour  which  some  damsels  of  the  present  day,  as  well 
of  her  own  as  of  higher  degree,  would  consider  as  the 
natural  period  of  commencing  an  evening  of  pleasure, 
brought,  in  her  opinion,  awe  and  solemnity  in  it ;  and  the 
resolution  she  had  taken  had  a  strange,  daring,  and  ad- 
venturous character,  to  which  she  could  hardly  reconcile 
herself  when  the  moment  approached  for  putting  it  into 
execution.  Her  hands  trembled  as  she  snooded  her  fair 
hair  beneath  the  ribbon,  then  the  only  ornament  or  cover 
which  young  unmarried  women  wore  on  their  head,  and 
as  she  adjusted  the  scarlet  tartan  screen  or  muffler  made 
of  plaid,  which  the  Scottish  women  wore,  much  in  the 
fashion  of  the  black  silk  veils  still  a  part  of  female  dress 
in  the  Netherlands.     A  sejise  of  impropriety  as   well  as 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAX.  1<< 

of  danger  jDressed  upon  her  as  she  Hfted  the  latch  of  her 
paternal  mansion  to  leave  it  on  so  wild  an  expedition,  and 
at  so  late  an  hour,  unprotected,  and  without  the  knowledge 
of  her  natural  guardian. 

When  she  found  herself  abroad  and  in  the  open  fields, 
additional  subjects  of  apprehension  crowded  upon  her. 
The  dim  cliifs  and  scattered  rocks,  interspersed  wdth  green 
sward,  through  which  she  had  to  pass  to  the  place  of  ap- 
pointment, as  they  ghmmered  before  her  in  a  clear  au- 
tumn night,  recalled  to  her  memory  many  a  deed  of  vio- 
lence, which,  according  to  tradition,  had  been  done  and 
suffered  among  them.  In  earlier  days  they  had  been  the 
haunt  of  robbers  and  assassins,  the  memory  of  whose 
crimes  is  preserved  in  the  various  edicts  which  the  council 
of  the  city,  and  even  the  parliament  of  Scotland,  had 
passed  for  dispersing  their  bands,  and  insuring  safety  to 
the  heges,  so  near  the  precmcts  of  the  city.  The  names 
of  these  criminals,  and  of  their  atrocities,  wese  still  remem- 
bered in  traditions  of  the  scattered  cottages  and  the  neigh- 
bouring suburb.  In  latter  times,  as  we  have  already  no- 
ticed, the  sequestered  and  broken  character  of  the  ground 
rendered  it  a  fit  theatre  for  duels  and  rencontres  among 
the  fiery  youth  of  that  period.  Two  or  three  of  these 
incidents,  all  sanguinary,  and  one  of  them  fatal  in  its  ter- 
mination, had  happened  since  Deans  came  to  live  at  St. 
Leonard's.  His  daughter's  recollections,  therefore,  were 
of  blood  and  horror  as  she  pursued  the  small  scarce- 
tracked  solitary  path,  every  step  of  which  conveyed  her 
to  a  greater  distance  from  help,  and  deeper  into  the  om- 
inous seclusion  of  these  unhallowed  precincts. 

As  the  moon  began  to  peer  forth  on  the  scene  with  a 
doubtful,  flitting,  and  solemn  light,  Jeanie's  apprehensions 
took  another  turn,  too  peculiar  to  her  rank  and  country  to 
remain  unnoticed.  But  to  trace  its  origin  will  require 
another  chapter. 


l'7B  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

The  Spirit  I  have  seen 
May  be  the  devil  :  And  the  devil  has  power 
To  assume  a  pleasing  shape. 

Hamlet. 

Witchcraft  and  demonology,  as  we  have  already  had 
occasion  to  remark,  were  at  this  period  beheved  in  by  al- 
most all  ranks,  but  more  especially  among  the  stricter 
classes  of  presbyterians,  whose  government,  when  at  the 
head  of  the  state,  had  been  much  sullied  by  their  eager- 
ness to  inquire  into,  and  persecute  these  imaginary  criuies. 
Now,  in  this  point  of  view  also.  Saint  Leonard's  Crags 
and  the  adjacent  Chase  were  a  dreaded  and  ill-reputed 
district.  Not  only  had  witches  held  their  meetings  there, 
but  even  of  very  late  years  the  enthusiast,  or  impostor, 
mentioned  in  Baxter's  World  of  Spirits,  had,  among  the 
recesses  of  these  romantic  cliffs,  found  his  way  into  the 
hidden  retreats  where  the  fairies  revel  in  the  bowels  of 
the  earth. 

With  all  these  legends  Jeanie  Deans  was  too  well  ac- 
quainted, to  escape  that  strong  impression  which  they  usu- 
ally make  on  the  imagination.  Indeed,  relations  of  this 
ghostly  kind  had  been  famihar  to  her  from  her  infancy, 
for  they  were  the  only  relief  which  her  father's  conversa- 
tion afforded  from  controversial  argument,  or  the  gloomy 
.history  of  the  strivings  and  testimonies,  escapes,  captures, 
tortures,  and  executions  of  those  martyrs  of  the  covenant, 
with  whom  it  was  his  chiefest  boast  to  say  he  had  been 
acquainted.  In  the  recesses  of  mountains,  in  caverns, 
and  in  morasses,  to  which  these  persecuted  enthusiasts 
were  so  ruthlessly  pursued,  they  conceived  they  had  often 
to  contend  with  the  visible  assaults  of  the  Enemy  of  Man- 
kind, as  in  the  cities,  and  in  the  cultivated  fields,  they 
were  exposed  to  those  of  the  tyrannical  government  and 
their  soldiery.      Such  were  the  terrors  which  made  one 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  179 

of  their  gifted  seers  exclaim,  when  his  companion  return- 
ed to  him,  after  having  left  him  alone  in  a  haunted  caveni 
in  Sorn  in  Galloway,  "  It  is  hard  Hving  in  this  world — in- 
carnate devils  above  the  earth,  and  devils  under  the  earth  ! 
Satan  has  been  here  since  ye  went  away,  but  I  have  dis- 
missed him  by  resistance  ;  we  will  be  no  more  troubled 
with  him  this  night."  David  Deans  believed  this,  and 
many  other  such  ghostly  encounters  and  victories,  on  the 
faith  of  the  Ansars,  or  auxiliaries  of  the  banished  prophets. 
This  event  was  beyond  David's  remembrance.  Bui  he 
used  to  tell  with  great  awe,  yet  not  without  a  feeling  oi 
proud  superiority  to  his  auditors,  how  he  himself  had  been 
present  at  a  field-meeting  at  Crochmade,  where  the  duty 
of  the  day  was  interrupted  by  the  apparition  of  a  tall 
black  man,  who,  in  the  act  of  crossing  a  ford  to  join  .the 
congregation,  lost  ground,  and  was  carried  down  appar- 
ently by  the  force  of  the  stream.  All  were  instantly  at 
work  to  assist  him,  but  with  so  little  success,  that  ten  or 
twelve  stout  men,  who  had  hold  of  the  rope  which  they 
had  cast  in  to  his  aid,  were  rather  in  danger  to  be  dragged 
into  the  stream,  and  lose  their  own  lives,  than  likely  to 
save  that  of  the  supposed  perishing  man.  "  But  famous 
John  Semple  of  Carsphairn,"  David  Deans  used  to  say 
with  exultation,  "  saw  the  whaupin  the  rape, — '  Quit  the 
tow,'  he  cried  to  us,  (for  1  that  was  but  a  callant  had  a 
baud  o'  the  rape  mysell  ;)  '  it  is  the  Great  Enemy  ;  he 
will  burn,  but  not  drown  ;  his  design  is  to  disturb  tlie  good 
work,  by  raising  wonder  and  confusion  in  your  minds  ; 
to  put  off  from  your  spirits  all  that  ye  hae  heard  and  felt.' 
— Sae  we  let  go  the  rape,"  said  David,  "  and  he  went 
adown  the  water  screeching  and  bullering  like  a  Bull  of 
Bashan,  as  he  is  ca'd  in  Scripture." 

Trained  in  these  and  similar  legends,  it  was  no  wonder 
that  Jeanie  began  to  feel  an  ill-defined  apprehension,  not 
merf  ly  of  the  phantoms  which  might  beset  her  way,  but 
of  tli("  quality,  nature,  and  purpose  of  the  being  who  had 
thus  appointed  her  a  meeting,  at  a  place  and  hour  of  hor- 
ror, and  at  a  time  when  her  mind  must  be  necessarily  full 
of  those  tempting   and  ensnaring  thoughts  of  grief  and 


180  TALES    OF   MY    LANDLORD. 

despair,  which  were  supposed  to  lay  sufferers  particularly 
open  to  the  temptatioiiS  of  tne  Evil  One.  If  such  an  idea 
had  crossed  even  Britler's  well-uiforined  mind,  it  was  cal- 
culated to  make  a  much  stronger  impression  upon  her's. 
Yet,  firmly  believins;  the  possibility  of  an  encounter  so 
terrible  to  flesh  ana  fjiood,  Jeanie,  with  a  degree  of  reso- 
lution of  which  we  cannot  sufficiently  estimate  the  merit, 
because  the  incredulity  of  the  age  has  rendered  us  stran- 
gers to  the  nature  and  extent  of  her  feelings,  persevered 
in  her  determination  not  to  omit  an  opportunity  of  doing 
something  iovvyrds  saving  her  sister,  although,  in  the  at- 
tempt to  avail  herself  of  it,  she  might  be  exposed  to  dan- 
gers so  dreadful  to  her  imagination.  So,  hke  Christiana 
m  the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  when  traversing  with  a  timid 
yet  resolved  step,  the  terrors  of  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow 
of  Death,  slie  glided  on  by  rock  and  stone,  "  now  in  glim- 
mer and  now  in  gloom,"  as  Ijer  path  lay  through  moon- 
light or  shadow,  and  endeavoured  to  overpovver  the  sug- 
gestions of  fear,  sometimes  by  fixing  her  mind  upon  the 
distressed  condition  of  her  sister,  and  the  duty  she  lay 
under  to  afford  her  aid,  should  that  be  in  her  power  ;  and 
more  frequently  by  recurring  in  mental  prayer  to  the.pro- 
tection  of  that  Beiijg  to  whom  night  is  as  noon-day. 

Thus,  drowning  at  one  time  her  fears  by  fixing  her  mind 
on  a  subject  of  overpowering  interest,  and  arguing  them 
down  at  others  by  referring  herself  to  the  protection  of 
the  Deity,  she  at  length  approached  the  place  assigned 
for  this  mysterious  conference. 

It  was  situated  in  the  depth  of  the  valley  behind  Salis- 
bury Crags,  which  has  for  a  back-ground  the  north-west- 
ern shoulder  of  the  mountain  called  Arthur's  Seat,  on 
whose  descent  still  remain  the  ruins  of  what  was  once  a 
chapel,  or  hermitage,  dedicated  to  Saint  Anthony  the 
Eremite.  A  better  site  for  such  a  building  could  hardly 
have  been  selected  ;  for  the  chapel,  situated  among  the 
rude  and  pathless  cliffs,  lies  in  a  desert,  even  in  the  im- 
mediate vicinity  of  a  rich,  populous,  and  tumultuous  cap- 
ital ;  and  the  hum  of  the  capital  might  mingle  with  the 
orisons  of  the  recluses,  conveying  as  little  of  worldly  in- 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  181 

terest  as  if  it  had  been  the  roar  of  the  distant  ocean. 
Beneath  the  steep  ascent  on  which  these  ruins  are  still 
visible,  was,  and  perhaps  is  still  pointed  out,  the  place 
where  the  wretch  Nicol  Muschat,  who  has  been  already 
mentioned  in  these  pages,  had  closed  a  long  scene  of  cru- 
elty towards  his  unfortunate  wife,  by  murdering  her,  with 
circumstances  of  uncommon  barbarity.  The  execration 
in  which  the  man's  crime  was  held,  extended  itself  to  the 
place  where  it  was  perpetrated,  which  was  marked  by  a 
small  cairn,  or  heap  of  stones,  composed  of  those  which 
each  chance  passenger  had  thrown  there  in  testimony  .of 
abhorrence,  and  on  the  principle,  it  would  seem,  of  the 
ancient  British  malediction,  "  May  you  have  a  cairn  lor 
your  burial-place  !" 

As  our  heroine  approached  this  ominous  and  unhallow- 
ed spot,  she  paused  and  looked  to  the  moon,  now  rising 
broad  on  the  north-west,  and  shedding  a  more  distinct 
ligiit  than  it  had  afforded  during  her  walk  thither.  Eye- 
ing the  planet  for  a  moment,  she  then  slowly  and  fearfully 
turned  her  head  towards  the  cairn  from  which  it  was  at 
first  averted.  She  was  at  first  disappointed.  JNothing 
was  visible  beside  the  little  pile  of  stones,  which  shone 
grey  in  the  moonlight.  A  multitude  of  confused  sugges- 
tions rushed  on  her  mind.  Had  her  correspondent  de- 
ceived her,  and  broken  his  appointment  1 — was  he  too 
tardy  at  the  appointment  he  had  made  9 — or  had  some 
strange  turn  of  fate  prevented  him  from  appearing  as  he 
proposed  9 — or  if  he  were  an  unearthly  being,  as  her  se- 
cret apprehensions  suggested,  was  it  his  object  merely  to 
delude  her  with  false  hopes,  and  put  her  to  unnecessary 
toil  and  terror,  according  to  the  nature,  as  she  had  heard, 
of  those  wandering  demons  9 — or  did  he  propose  to  blast 

r  whh  the  sudden  horrors  of  his  presence  when  she 
had  come  close  to  the  place  of  rendezvous.  These 
anxious  reflections  did  not  prevent  her  approaching  to  the 
cairn  with  a  pace  that,  though  slow,  was  determined. 

When  she  was  within  two  yards  of  the  heap  of  stones, 
a  figure  rose  suddenly  up  from  behind  it,  and  Jeanie  scarce 

16       VOL.    T. 


182  TALES    OF   MT   LANDLORD. 

forbore  to  scream  aloud  at  what  seemed  the  realization 
of  the  most  frightful  of  her  anticipation^.  She  constrain- 
ed herself  to  silence,  however,  and,  making  a  dead  pause, 
suffered  the  figure  to  open  the  conversation,  which  he  did, 
by  asking,  in  a  voice  which  agitation  rendered  tremulous 
and  hollow,  "  Are  you  the  sister  of  that  ill-fated  young 
woman  '?" 

"  I  am — I  am  the  sister  of  Effie  Deans  !"  exclaimed 
Jeanie.  "  And  as  ever  you  hope  God  will  hear  you  at 
your  need,  tell  me,  if  you  can  tell,  what  can  be  done  to 
save  her  !" 

"  I  do  not  hope  God  will  hear  me  at  my  need,"  was 
the  singular  answer.  "  I  do  not  deserve — I  do  not  ex- 
pect he  will."  Tliis  desperate  language  he  uttered  in  a 
tone  cahner  than  that  with  which  he  had  at  first  spoken, 
})robably  because  the  shock  of  first  addressing  her  was 
what  he  felt  most  difficult  to  overcome.  Jeanie  remained 
mute  with  horror  to  hear  language  expressed  so  utterly 
foreign  to  all  which  she  had  ever  been  acquainted  with, 
that  it  sounded  in  her  ears  rather  like  that  of  a  fiend  than 
of  a  human  being.  The  stranger  pursued  his  address  to 
her  without  seeming  to  notice  her  surprise.  "  You  see 
before  vou  a  wretch,  predestined  to  evil  here  and  here- 
after."' 

"  For  the  sake  of  Heaven,  that  hears  and  sees  us,"  said 
Jeanie,  "  dinna  speak  in  this  desperate  fashion  !  The 
gospel  is  sent  to  the  chief  of  sinners — to  the  most  miser- 
able among  the  miserable." 

"  Then  should  I  have  my  own  share  therein,"  said  the 
stranger,  "  if  you  call  it  sinful  to  have  been  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  mother  that  bore  me — of  the  friend  that  loved 
me — of  the  woman  that  trusted  me — of  the  innocent  child 
that  was  born  to  me.  If  to  have  done  all  this  is  to  be  a 
sinner,  and  to  survive  it  is  to  be  miserable,  then  am  I  most 
guilty  and  most  miserable  indeed." 

"  Then  you  are  the  wicked  cause  of  my  sister's  ruin  9" 
said  Jeanie,  with  a  natural  touch  of  indignation  expressed 
in  her  tone  of  voice. 


THE    HEART    01'    MID'tOTHIAX.  183 

"  Curse  me  for  it,  if  you  will,"  said  the  stranger  ;  "  I 
have  well  deserved  it  at  your  hand." 

It  is  fitter  for  me,"  said  Jeanie,  "  to  pray  to  God  to 

y 

»"  Do  as  you  will,  how  you  will,  or  what  you  will,'*  he 
repHed,  with  vehemence  ;  "  only  promise  to  obey  my 
directions,  and  save  your  sister's  life." 

"  1  must  first  know,"  said  Jeanie,  '•  the  means  you 
would  have  me  use  in  her  behalf." 

*•  No  ! — you  must  first  swear — solemnly  swear,  that  you 
will  employ  them,  when  I  make  them  known  to  you." 

"  Surely  it  is  needless  to  swear  that  I  will  do  all  that 
is  lawful  to  a  Christian,  to  save  the  life  of  my  sister  9" 

"  I  will  have  no  reservation  !"  thundered  the  stranger  ; 
"  lawful  or  unlawful.  Christian  or  heathen,  you  shall  swear 
to  do  my  liest,  and  aci  hy  my  counsel,  or — you  little 
know  whose  wrath  you  provoke  !" 

"  I  will  think  on  what  you  have  said,"  said  Jeanie,  who 
began  to  get  much  alarmed  at  the  frantic  vehemence  of 
his  manner,  and  disputed  in  her  own  mind  whether  she 
spoke  to  a  maniac,  or  an  apostate  spirit  incarnate — "  I  will 
think  on  what  you  say,  and  let  you  ken  to-morrow." 

"  To-morrow  ?"  exclaimed  the  man,  with  a  laugh  of 
scorn — "  And  where  will  I  be  to-morrow  f — or,  where 
will  you  be  to-night,  unless  you  swear  to  walk  by  my 
counsel  9 — There  was  one  accursed  deed  done  at  this  spot 
before  now  ;  and  there  shall  be  another  to  match  it,  un- 
less you  yield  up  to  my  guidance  body  and  soul." 

As  he  spoke,  he  offered  a  pistol  at  the  unfortunate  young 
woman.  She  neither  fled  nor  fainted,  but  sunk  on  her 
knees,  and  asked  him  to  spare  her  life. 

"  Is  that  all  you  have  to  say  9" 

*'  Do  not  dip  your  hands  in  the  blood  of  a  defenceless 
creature  that  has  trusted  to  you,"  said  Jeanie,  still  on  her 
knees. 

"  Is  that  all  you  can  say  for  your  hfe/? — Have  you  no 
promise  to  give  ? — Will  you  destroy  your  sister,  and  com- 
pel me  to  shed  more  blood  9" 


184  TALES    0¥    MY    liAXDLORD. 

"  I  can  promise  nothing,"  said  Jeanie,  "  which  is  un- 
lawful for  a  Christain." 

He  cocked  the  weapon,  and  held  it  towards  her. 

"  IMay  God  forgive  you  !"  she  said,  pressing  her  hands 
forcibly  against  her  eyes. 

"  D n  !"  muttered  the  man  ;  and,  turning  aside 

from  her,  he  uncocked  the  pistol,  and  replaced  it  in  his 
pocket — "  I  am  a  villain,"  he  said,  "  steeped  in  guilt  and 
wretchedness,  but  not  wicked  enough  to  do  you  any  harm  ! 
T  only  wished  to  terrify  you  into  my  measures — She  hears 
nie  not — she.  is  gone  ! — Great  God  !  what  a  wretch  am 
T  become  !" 

As  he  spoke,  she  recovered  herself  from  an  agony 
which  partook  of  the  bitterness  of  death  ;  and,  in  a  min- 
ute or  two,  th'tough  the  strong  exertion  of  her  natural  sense 
and  courage,  collected  hpr^elf  sumcienily  to  understand 
he  inicndcu  her  no  personal  injury. 

"  No  !"  he  repeated  ;  "  I  would  not  add  to  the  mur- 
der of  your  sister,  and  of  her  child,  that  of  any  one  be- 
longing to  her — 31ad,  frantic  as  I  am,  and  unrestrained  by 
either  fear  or  mercy,  given  up  to  the  possession  of  an  evil 
being,  and  forsaken  by  all  that  is  good,  I  would  not  hurt 
you,  were  the  world  offered  me  for  a  bribe  I  But,  for  the 
sake  of  all  that  is  dear  to  you,  swear  you  will  follow  my 
counsel.  Take  this  weapon,  shoot  me  through  the  head, 
and  with  your  own  hand  revenge  your  sister's  wrong,  only 
follow  the  course — the  only  course,  by  which  her  life  can 
be  saved." 

"  Alas  !  is  she  innocent  or  guilty  ?" 

"  She  is  guiltless — guihless  of  every  thing,  but  of  having 
trusted  a  villain  ! — Yet  had  it  not  been  for  those  that  were 
worse  than  I  am, — yes,  worse  than  I  am,  though  I  am 
bad  enough — this  misery  had  not  befallen." 

"  And   my  sister's  child — does  it  live  V^  said  Jeanie. 

"  No  ;  it  was  murdered — the  new-born  infant  was  bar- 
barously murdered,"  he  uttered  in  a  low,  yet  stern  and 
sustained  voice  ; — "  but,"  he  added  hastily,  "  not  by  her 
knowledge  or  consent." 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAX.  185 

"  Then,  why  cannot  the  guilty  be  brought  to  justice, 
and  the  innocent  fre.ed  ?" 

"  Torment  me  j]^t  with  questions  which  can  serve  no 
purpose,"  he  sternly  lephed — "  The  deed  was  done  by 
those  who  are  far  enough  from  pursuit,  and  safe  enough 
from  discovery  ! — No  one  can  save  Effie   but  yourself." 

"  Woes  me  !  how  is  it  in  my  power  '?"  asked  Jeanie, 
in  despondency. 

"  Hearken  to  me  ! — You  have  sense, — you  can  appre- 
hend my  meaning — I  will  trust  you — Your  sister i^  inno- 
cent of  the  crime  charged  against  her" 

"  Thank  God  for  that !"  said  Jeanie. 

"  Be  still  and  hearken  ! — The  person  who  assisted  her 
in  her  illness  murdered  her  child  ;  but  it  was  without  the 
mother's  knowledge  or  consent — She  is  therefore  guilt- 
less, as  guiltless  as  the  unhappy  innocent,  that  but  gasped 
a  few  minutes  ifl  this  unhappy  world — the  better  was  its 
hap  to  be  soon  at  rest.  She  is  as  innocent  as  that  infant, 
and  vet  she  must  die — it  is  impossible  to  clear  her  of 
the  law  !" 

"  Cannot  the  wretches  be  discovered,  and  given  up  to 
punishment  9"  said  Jeanie. 

"  Do  you  think  you  v.ill  persuade  those  who  are  hard- 
ened in  guilt  to  die  to  save  another  t — Is  that  the  reed 
you  would  lean  to  f" 

"  But  you  said  there  was  a  remedy,"  again  gasped  out 
the  terrified  young  woman. 

'•  There  is,"  answered  the  stranger,  "  and  it  is  in  your 
own  hands.  The  blow  which  the  law  aims  cannot  be 
broken  by  directly  encountering  it,  but  it  may  be  turned 
aside.  You  saw  your  sister  during  the  period  preceding 
the  birth  of  her  child — what  is  so  natural  as  that  she  should 
have  mentioned  her  condition  to  you  f  The  doing  so 
would,  as  their  cant  goes,  take  the  case  from  under  the 
statute,  for  it  removes  the  quality  of  concealment.  I 
know  their  jargon,  and  have  had  sad  cause  to  know  it  ; 
and  the  quality  of  concealment  is  essential  to  this  statutory 
offence.     Nothing  is  so  natural  as  that  Effie  should  have 

16*       VOL.    I. 


186  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

mentioned  her  condition  to  you — think — reflect-^I  am 
positive  that  she  did." 

"  Woes  me  !"  said  Jeanie,  "  she  never  spoke  to  me 
on  the  subject,  but  grat  sorely  when  I  spoke  to  her  about 
her  altered  looks,  and  the  change  on  her  spirits." 

"  You  asked  her  questions  on  the  subject  .''"  he  said 
eagerly.  "  You  must  remember  her  answer  was,  a  con- 
fession that  she  had  been  ruined  by  a  villain — yes,  lay  a 
strong  emphasis  on  that — a  cruel  false  villain,  call  it: — any 
other  i^Tie  is  unnecessary  ;  and  that  she  bore  under  her 
bosom  the  consequences  of  his  guilt  and  her  folly  ;  and 
that  he  had  assured  her  he  would  provide  safely  for  her 
approaching  illness. — Well  he  kept  his  word  !"  These 
last  words  he  spoke  as  it  were  to  himself,  and  with  a  vio- 
lent gesture  of  self-accusation,  and  then  calmly  proceed- 
ed, "  You  will  remember  all  this  f — That  is  all  that  is 
necessary  to  be  said."  % 

"  But  I  cannot  remember,"  answered  Jeanie,  with  sim- 
plicity, "  that  which  Effie  never  told  me." 

"  Are  you  so  dull — so  very  dull  of  apprehension  !"  he 
exclaimed,  suddenly  grasping  her  arm,  and  holding  it  firm 
in  his  hand.  "  1  tell  you,"  speaking  between  his  teeth, 
and  under  his  breath,  but  with  great  energy,  "  you  must 
remember  that  she  told  you  all  this,  whether  she  ever  said 
a  syllable  of  it  or  no.  You  must  repeat  tbis  tale,  in  which 
there  is  no  falsehood,  (except  in  so  far  as  it  was  not  told 
to  you  till  now,)  before  these  Justices — Justiciary — what- 
soever they  call  their  blood-thirsty  court,  and  save  your 
sister  from  being  murdered,  and  them  from  becoming 
murderers.  Do  not  hesitate — 1  pledge  life  and  salvation, 
that  in  saying  what  I  have  said,  you  will  only  speak  the 
simple  truth." 

"  But,"  replied  Jeanie,  whose  judgment  was  too  ac- 
curate not  to  see  the  sophistry  of  this  argument,  "  I  shall 
be  man-sw^orn  in  the  very  thing  in  which  my  testimony  is 
wanted,  for  it  is  the  concealment  for  which  poor  EfFie  is 
blamed,  and  you  would  make  me  tell  a  falsehood  anent  it." 

"  I  see,"  he  said,  "  my  first  suspicions  of  you  were 
rightj  and  that  you  will  let  your  sister,  innocent,  fair,  and 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-L0THIA>'.  187 

guiltless,  except  in  trusting  a  villain,  die  the  death  of  a 
murdress.  rather  than  bestow  the  breath  of  your  mouth 
and  the  sound  of  your  voice  to  save  her." 

'*  I  wad  ware  the  best  blood  in  my  body  to  keep  her 
skaithless,"  said  Jeanie,  weeping  in  bitter  agony,  "  but  I 
canna  change  right  into  wrang,  or  make  that  true  which 
is  false." 

'•'  Foolish,  hard-hearted  girl,"  said  the  stranger,  "  are 
you  afraid  of  what  they  may  do  to  you  ?  I  tell  you,  even 
the  retainers  of  the  law,  who  course  Yde  as  greyhounds  do 
hares,  will  rejoice  at  the  escape  of  a  creature  so  young — 
so  beautiful  ;  that  they  will  not  suspect  your  tale  ;  that, 
if  they  did  suspect  it,  they  would  consider  you  as  deserv- 
ing, not  only  of  forgiveness,  but  of  praise  for  your  natu- 
ral affection." 

"  It  is  not  man  I  fear,"  said  Jeanie,  looking  upward  ; 
"  the  God,  whose  name  I  must  call  on  to  witness  the  truth 
of  what  I  say,  he  will  know  the  falsehood." 

"  And  he  will  know  the  motive,"  said  the  stranger,  ea- 
gerly ;  '•  he  will  know  that  you  are  doing  this — not  for 
lucre  of  gain,  but  to  save  the  hfe  of  the  innocent,  and 
prevent  the  commission  of  a  worse  crime  than  that  which 
the  law  seeks  to  avenge." 

'•  He  has  given  us  a  law,"  said  Jeanie,  "  for  the  lamp 
of  our  path  ;  if  we  stray  from  it,  we  err  against  know- 
ledge— I  may  not  do  e\il,  even  that  good  may  come  out  of 
it.  But  you — you  that  ken  all  this  to  be  true,  which  I 
must  take  on  your  word, — you  that,  if  I  understood  what 
you  said  e'en  now,  promised  her  shelter  and  protection  in 
her  travail,  why  do  not  you  step  forward,  and  bear  leal 
and  soothfast  evidence  in  her  behalf,  as  ye  may  with  a 
clear  conscience  .''" 

"  To  whom  do  you  talk  of  a  clear  conscience,  wo- 
man .'"  said  he,  with  a  sudden  fierceness  which  renewed 
her  terrors,  "  to  me  ? — I  have  not  known  one  for  many  a 
year.  Bear  witness  in  her  behalf  ': — a  proper  witness, 
that  even  to  speak  these  few  words  to  a  woman  of  so  little 
consequence  as  yourself,  must  choose  such  an  hour  and 
such  a  place  as  this.     When  you  see  owls  and  bats  fly 


188  TALES    OF   MY    LANDLORD, 

abroad,  like  larks  in  the  sunshine,  you  may  expect  to 
see  such  as  I  am  in  the  assemblies  of  men. — Hush  ! — 
listen  to  that." 

A  voice  was  heard  to  sing  one  of  those  wild  and  mo- 
notonous strains  so  common  in  Scotland,  and  to  which  the 
natives  of  that  country  chant  their  old  ballads.  The 
sound  ceased — then  came  nearer,  and  was  renewed  ;  the 
stranger  listened  attentively,  still  holding  Jeanie  by  the  arm, 
(as  she  stood  by  him  in  motionless  terror,)  as  if  to  pre- 
vent her  interrupting  the  strain  by  speaking  or  stirring. 
When  the  sounds  were  renewed,  the  words  were  distinct- 
ly audible  : 

•■'  When  the  gledd's  in  the  blue  cloud, 

The  lavrock  lies  still  : 
When  the  hound's  in  the  green-wood, 

The  hind  keeps  the  hill." 

The  person  who  sung  kept  a  strained  and  powerful  voice 
at  its  very  highest  pitch,  so  that  it  could  be  heard  at  a 
very  considerable  distance.  As  the  song  ceased,  they 
might  hear  a  stifled  sound,  as  of  steps  and  whispers  of 
persons  approaching  them.  The  song  was  again  raised, 
but  the  tune  was  changed  : 

'■'  Oh  sleep  ye  sound,  Sir  James,  she  said, 

When  ye  suld  rise  and  ride  ? 
There's  twenty  men.  wi'  bow  and  blade. 

Are  seeking-  where  ye  hide." 

''  I  dare  stay  no  longer,"  said  the  stranger  ;  *'  return 
home,  or  remain  till  they  come  up — you  have  nothing  to 
fear — but  do  not  tell  you  saw  me — your  sister's  fate  is 
in  your  hands."  So  saying,  he  turned  from  her,  and 
with  a  svv^ift,  yet  cautiously  noiseless  step,  plunged  into 
the  darkness  on  the  side  most  remote  from  the  sounds 
which  they  heard  approaching,  and  v/as  soon  lost  to  her 
sight.  Jeanie  remained  by  the  cairn,  terrified  beyond 
expression,  and  uncertain  whether  she  ought  to  fly  home- 
ward with  all  the  speed  she  could  exert,  or  wait  the  ap- 
proach of  those  who  were  advancing  towards  her.     This 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  189 

uncertainty  detained  her  so  long,  that  she  now  distinctly 
saw  two  or  three  figures  already  so  near  to  her,  that  a 
precipitate  flight  would  have  been  equally  fruitless  and 
inipohtic. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

She  speaks  things  in  doubt, 

That  carry  but  half  sense  :  her  speech  is  nothing, 
Yet  the  uushaped  use  of  it  doth  move 
The  hearers  to  collection  ;  they  aim  at  it, 
And  botch  the  words  up  fit  to  their  own  thoughts. 

Hamlet. 

Like  the  digressive  poet  Ariosto,  1  find  n:}'oClf  "sdcr 
the  necessity  of  connecting  the  branches  of  my  story,  by 
taking  up  the  adventures  of  another  of  the  characters, 
and  bringing  them  down  to  the  point  at  which  we  have 
left  those  of  Jeanie  Deans.  It  is  not,  perhaps,  the  most 
artificial  way  of  teOing  a  story,  but  it  has  the  advantage 
of  sparing  the  necessity  of  resuming  what  a  knitter  (if 
stocking-looms  have  left  such  a  person  in  the  land)  might 
call  our  "  dropped  stitches  ;"  a  labour  in  which  the  au- 
thor generally  toils  much,  without  getting  credit  for  his 
pains. 

"  I  could  risk  a  sma'  wad,"  said  the  clerk  to  the  mag- 
istrate, "  that  this  rascal  RatclifFe,  if  he  was  insured  of 
his  neck's  safety,  could  do  more  than  ony  ten  of  our  po- 
lice people  and  constables,  to  help  us  to  get  out  of  this 
scrape  of  Porteous's.  He  is  weel  acquent  wi'  a'  the 
smugglers,  thieves,  and  banditti  about  Edinburgh  ;  and, 
indeed,  he  may  be  called  the  father  of  a'  the  misdoersin 
Scotland,  for  he  has  passed  amang  them  for  these  twenty 
years  by  the  name  of  Daddie  Rat." 

"  A  bonny  sort  of  a  scoundrel,"  replied  the  magis- 
trate, *'  to  expect  a  place  under  the  city  !" 


190  TALES    OF   MY    LANDLORD. 

"  Begging  your  honour's  pardon,"  said  the  city's  pro- 
curator-fiscal, upon  whom  the  duties  of  superintendent  of 
police  devolved,  "  Mr.  Fairscrieve  is  perfectly  in  the 
right.  It  is  just  sic  as  Ratcliffe  that  the  town  needs  in  my 
department  ;  an'  if  sae  be  that  he's  disposed  to  turn  his 
knowledge  to  the  city-service,  ye'll  no  find  a  better  man. 
— Ye'll  get  nae  saints  to  be  searchers  for  uncustomed 
^^oods,  or  for  thieves  and  sic  like  ; — and  your  decent  sort 
of  men,  religious  professors,  and  broken  tradesmen,  that 
are  put  into  the  like  o'  sic  trust,  can  do  nae  gude  ava. 
They  are  feared  for  this,  and  they  are  scrupulous  about 
that,  and  they  arena  free  to  tell  a  lie,  though  it  may  be  for 
the  benefit  of  the  city  ;  and  they  dinna  hke  to  be  out  at 
irregular  hours,  and  in  a  dark  cauld  night,  and  they  like  a 
clout  ower  the  croun  far  waur  5  and  sae  between  the 
fear  n'  God,  and  the  fear  o'  man,  and  the  fear  o'  getting 
Z  Sair  uiiOai,  OF  salr  baRCS,  there's  a  dozen  o'  our  city- 
folk,  baith  waiters,  and  officers,  and  constables,  that  can 
find  out  naething  but  a  wee-bit  skulduddery  for  the  benefit 
of  the  Kirk-treasurer.  Jock  Porteous,  that's  stiff  and 
stark,  puir  fallow,  was  worth  a  dozen  o'  them ;  for  he 
never  had  ony  fears,  or  scruples,  or  doubts,  or  conscience, 
about  ony  thing  your  honours  bade  him." 

"  He  was  a  gude  servant  o'  the  town,"  said  the  Baillie, 
"  though  he  was  an  ower  free-living  man.  But  if  you 
really  think  this  rascal  Ratcliffe  could  do  us  ony  service 
in  discovering  these  malefactors,  I  would  insure  him  hfe, 
reward,  and  promotion.  It's  an  awsome  thing  this  mis- 
chance for  the  city,  Mr.  Fairscrieve.  It  will  be  very  ill 
tane  wi'  abune  stairs.  Queen  Caroline,  God  bless  her, 
is  a  woman — at  least  1  judge  sae,  and  its  nae  treasop  to 
speak  my  mind  sae  far — and  ye  maybe  ken  as  weel  as  I 
do,  for  ye  hae  a  housekeeper,  though  you  are  nae  mar- 
ried man,  that  women  are  wilfu',  and  downa  bide  a  slight. 
And  it  will  sound  ill  in  her  ears,  that  sic  a  confused  mis- 
take suld  come  to  pass,  and  naebody  sae  muckle  as  to  be 
put  into  the  Tolbooth  about  it." 

"  If  ye  thought  that,  sir,"  said  the  procurator-fiscal, 
*'  we  could  easily  clap  into  the  prison  a  few  blackguards 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAK^.  191 

upon  suspicion.  It  will  have  a  gude  active  look,  and  I 
hae  aye  plenty  on  my  list,  that  vvadna  be  a  hair  the  waur 
of  a  week  or  tvva's  imprisonment ;  and  if  ye  thought  it 
no  strictly  just,  ye  could  be  just  the  easier  wi'  them  the 
neist  time  they  did  ony  thing  to  deserve  it ;  they  arena 
the  sort  to  be  lang  o'  geeing  ye  an  opportunity  to  clear 
scores  wi'  them  on  that  account." 

"  I  doubt  that  will  hardly  do  in  this  case,  Mr.  Sharpit- 
law,"  returned  the  town-clerk  ;  "  they'll  run  their  letters, 
and  be  adrift  again,  before  ye  ken  where  ye  are." 

"  I  will  spewk  to  the  Lord  Provost,"  said  the  magis- 
trate, "  about  RatclifFe's  business.  Mr.  Sharpitlaw,  you 
will  go  with  me  and  receive  instructions — something  may 
be  made,  too,  out  of  this  story  of  Butler's  and  his  un- 
known gentleman — I  know  no  business  any  man  has  to 
swrgger  about  m  the  King's  Park,  and  call  himself  the 
devil,  to  the  terror  of  honest  folks,  who  dinna  care  to  hear 
mair  about  the  dev^il  than  is  said  from  the  pulpit  on  the 
Sabbath.  I  cannot  think  the  preacher  himsell  wad  be 
heading  the  mob,  though  the  time  has  been,  they  hae 
been  as  forward  in  a  bruilzie  as  their  neighbours." 

'*  But  these  times  are  lang  bye,"  said  Mr.  Sharpitlaw^ 
"  In  my  father's  time,  there  was  mair  search  for  silenced 
ministers  about  the  Bow-head  and  the  Covenant-close, 
and  all  the  tents  of  Kedar,  as  they  ca'd  the  dwellings  o' 
the  godly  in  those  days,  than  there's  now  for  thieves  and 
vagabonds  in  the  Laigh  Calton  and  the  back  o'  the  Can- 
ongate.  But  that  time's  weel  bye,  an'  it  bide.  And  if 
the  BaiUie  will  get  me  directions  and  authority  from  the 
Provost,  I'll  speak  wi'  Dad  die  Rat  my  sell ;  tor  I'm  think- 
ing I'll  make  mair  out  o'  him  than  ye'll  do." 

Mr.  Sharpitlaw,  being  necessarily  a  man  of  high  trust, 
was  accordingly  empowered,  in  the  course  of  the  day, 
to  make  such  arrangements,  as  might  seem  in  the  emer- 
gency most  advantageous  for  the  Good  Town.  He  went 
to  the  jail  accordingly,  and  saw  Ratcliffe  in  private. 

The  relative  positions  of  a  police-officer  and  a  pro- 
fessed thief  bear  a  dif!<rrent  complexion,  according  to 
circumstances.       The   most  obvious  simile   of  a   hawk 


192  TALES    OF    MY   XANDLORD. 

pouncing  upon  his  prey  is  often  least  applicable.  Some- 
times the  guardian  of  justice  has  the  air  of  a  cat  watch- 
ing a  mouse,  and,  while  he  suspends  his  purpose  of 
springing  upon  the  pilferer,  taking  care  so  to  calculate  his 
motions  that  he  shall  not  get  beyond  his  power.  Some- 
times more  passive  still,  he  uses  the  art  of  fascination 
ascribed  to  the  rattle-snake,  and  contents  himself  with 
glaring  on  the  victim,  through  all  his  devious  flutterings  ; 
certain  that  his  terror,  confusion-,  and  disorder  of  ideas, 
will  bring  him  into  his  jaws  at  last.  The  interview  be- 
tween Ratcliffe  and  Sharpitlaw  had  an  aspect  different 
from  all  these.  They  sat  for  five  minutes  silent,  on  op- 
posite sides  of  a  small  table,  and  looked  fixedly  at  each 
other,  with  a  sharp,  knowing,  and  alert  cast  of  counte- 
nance, not  unmingled  with  an  inclination  to  laugh,  and 
resembled,  moi  e  than  anything  else,  two  dogs,  who,  pre- 
psriiig  for  a  game  at  romps,  are  seen  to  couch  down,  and 
remain  in  that  posture  for  a  little  time,  watching  each 
other's  movements,  and  waiting  which  shall  begin  the 
game. 

"  So,  Mr.  Ratcliffe,"  said  the  officer,  conceiving  it 
suited  his  dignity  to  speak  first,  "  you  give  up  business, 
I  find  r' 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Ratcliffe  ;  "  I  shall  be  on  that  lay 
nae  mair — and  I  think  that  will  save  your  folk  some 
trouble,  Mr.  Sharpitlaw  ?" 

"  Which  Jock  Dalgliesh"  (then  finisher  of  the  law  in 
the  Scottish  metropolis)  "  wad  save  them  as  easily,"  re- 
turned the  procurator-fiscal. 

"  Ay  ;  if  I  waited  in  the  Tolbooth  here  to  have  him 
fit  my  cravat — but  that's  an  idle  way  o'  speaking,  Mr. 
Sharpitlaw." 

"  Why,  I  suppose  you  know  you  are  under  sentence 
of  death,  Mr.  Ratcliffe  9"  replied  Mr.  Sharpitlaw. 

"  Ay,  so  are  we  a',  as  that  worthy  minister  said  in  the 
Tolbooth  Kirk  the  day  Robertson  wan  off;  but  naebody 
kens  when  it  will  be  executed.  Gude  faith,  he  had  bet- 
ter reason  to  say  sae  than  he  dreamed  of,  before  the  play 
was  played  out  that  morning." 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-JLOTHIAX.  193 

"  This  Robertson,"  said  Sharpillaw,  in  a  lower  and 
something  like  a  confidential  tone,  "d'ye  ken,  Rat — that 
is,  can  ye  gie  us  ony  inkling  where  he  is  to  be  heard  tell 
o'  9" 

"  Troth,  Mr.  Sharpitlaw,  I'll  be  frank  wi'  ye  ;  Robert- 
son is  rather  a  cut  abune  me — a  wild  deevil  he  was,  and 
mony  a  daft  prank  he  played  ;  but  except  the  Collector's 
job  that  Wilson  led  him  into,  and  some  tuilzies  about  run 
goods  wi'  the  gangers  and  the  waiters,  he  never  did  ony 
thing  that  came  near  our  line  o'  business." 

"  Umph  !  that's  singular,  considering  the  company  he 
kept." 

'*  Fact,  upon  my  honour  and  credit,"  said  RatclifFe, 
gravel}^  "  He  keepit  out  o'  our  litde  bits  of  affairs,  and 
that's  mair  than  Wilson  did  ;  I  hae  dune  business  wi'  Wil- 
son afore  now.  But  the  lad  will  come  on  in  time  ;  there's 
nae  fear  o'  him  ;  naebody  will  live  the  life  he  has  led, 
but  what  he'll  come  to  sooner  or  later." 

"  Who  or  what  is  he,  RatclifFe?  you  know,  I  sup- 
pose 9"  said  Sharpitlaw. 

"  He's  better  born,  I  judge,  than  he  cares  to  let  on  ; 
he's  been  a  soldier,  and  he  has  been  a  play-actor,  and  I 
watna  what  he  has  been  or  hasna  been,  for  as  young  as  he 
is,  sae  that  it  had  dafSng  and  nonsense  about  it." 

"  Pretty  pranks  he  has  played  in  his  time,  I  suppose  .'*" 

*'  Ye  may  say  that,"  said  RatclilFe,  with  a  sardonic 
smile  ;  "  and,"  (touching  his  nose,)  "  a  deevil  amang 
the  lasses." 

"  Like  enough,"  said  Sharpitlaw.  "  Weel,  RatclifFe, 
I'll  no  stand  nifFering  wi'  ye  ;  ye  ken  the  way  that  favour's 
gotten  in  my  office  ;  ye  maun  be  usefu'." 

"  Certainly,  sir,  to  the  best  of  my  power — naething  for 
naething — I  ken  the  rule  of  the  office,"  said  the  ex- 
depredator. 

"  Now  the  principal  thing  in  hand  e'en  now,"  said  the 
official  person,  "  is  this  job  of  Porteous's  ;  an  ye  can  gi'e 
us  a  lift — why,  the  inner  turnkey's  office  to  begin  wi',  and 
the  captainship  in  time — ye  understand  my  meaning  *?" 

17        VOL.    I. 


194  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

"  Ay,  troth  do  I,  sir  ;  a  wink's  as  gude  as  a  nod  to  a 
blind  horse  ;  but  Jock  Porteous's  job — Lord  help  ye,  I 
was  under  sentence  the  haill  time.  God  !  but  J  couldna 
help  laughing  when  I  heard  Jock  skirhng  for  mercy  in 
the  lads's  hands  !  Mony  a  het  skin  ye  hae  gi'en  rne,  neigh- 
bour, thought  I,  tak  ye  what's  gaun  ;  lime  about's  fair 
play  ;  ye'll  ken  now  what  hanging's  gude  for." 

"  Come,  come,  this  is  all  nonsense.  Rat.  Ye  canna 
creep  out  at  that  hole,  lad  ;  you  must  speak  to  the  point, 
you  understand  me,  if  you  want  favour ;  gif-gaf  makes 
gude  friends,  ye  ken." 

"  But  how  can  I  speak  to  the  point,  as  your  honour 
ca's  it,"  said  Ratcliffe,  demurely,  and  with  an  air  of  great 
simplicity,  "  when  ye  ken  I  was  under  sentence,  and  in 
the  strong-room  a'  the  while  the  job  was  gaun  on  9" 

"  And  how' can  we  turn  ye  loose  on  the  public  again, 
Daddie  Rat,  unless  ye  do  or  say  something  to  deserve  it  .'^" 

"  Weel  then,  d — n  it  !"  answered  the  criminal, 
"  since  it  maun  be  sae,  I  saw  Geordie  Robertson  amang 
the  boys  that  brake  the  jail  ;  I  suppose  that  will  do  me 
some  gude  ?" 

"  That's  speaking  to  the  purpose,  indeed,"  said  the 
office-bearer  ;  "  and  now,  Rat,  where  think  ye  we'll  find 
him  9" 

"  De'il  haet  o'  me  kens,"  said  Ratcliffe  ;  "  he'll  no 
likely  gang  back  to  ony  o'  his  auld  howffs  ;  he'll  be  off 
the  country  by  this  time.  He  has  gude  friends  some 
gate  or  other,  for  all  the  life  he's  led  5  he's  been  weel 
educate." 

"  He'll  grace  the  gallows  the  better,"  said  Mr.  Sharp- 
itlavv ;  "  a  desperate  dog,  to  murther  an  officer  of  the 
city  for  doing  his  duty  !  Wha  kens  wha's  turn  it  might  be 
next*? — But  you  saw  him  plainly  7" 

"  As  plainly  as  I  see  you." 

"  How  was  he  dressed  7"  said  Sharpitlaw. 

"  I  couldna  weel  see  ;  something  of  a  woman's  bit 
mutch  on  his  head  ;  but  ye  never  saw  sic  a  ca'throw. 
Ane  couldna  hae  een  to  a'  thing." 

"  But  did  he  speak  to  no  one  .^"  said  Sharpitlaw. 


THE    HEART   OF   MID-LOTHIAX.  195 

"  They  were  a'  speaking  and  gabbling  through  other," 
said  RatcHfFe,  who  was  obviously  unwilling  to  carry  his 
evidence  farther  than  he  could  possibly  help. 

"  This  will  not  do,  Ratcliffe,"  said  the  procurator  ; 
"  you  must  speak  out — out — om^,"  tapping  the  table  em- 
phatically as  he  repeated  that  impressive  monosyllable. 

"  It's  very  hard,  sir  ;  and  but  for  the  under-turnkey's 
place" 

"  And  the  reversion  of  the  captaincy — the  captaincy  of 
the  Tolbooth,  man — that  is,  in  case  of  gude  behaviour." 

"  Ay,  ay,"  said  Ratcliffe,  "  gude  behaviour  ! — there's 
the  deevil.  And  then  it's  waiting  for  dead  folks  shooQ 
into  the  bargain." 

''  But  Robertson's  head  will  weigh  something,"  said 
Sharpitlaw  ;  "  something  gay  and  heavy.  Rat ;  the  town 
maun  show  cause — that's  right  and  reason — and  then 
ye'll  hae  freedom  to  enjoy  your  gear  honestly." 

"  I  dinna  ken,"  said  Ratcliffe  ;  "  it's  a  queer  way  of 
beginning  the  trade  of  honesty — but  de'il  ma  care. 
Weel,  then,  I  heard  and  saw  hini  speak  to  the  wench 
Effie  Deans,  that's  up  there  for  child-murder." 

"  The  deevil  ye  did  r  Rat,  this  is  finding  a  mare's  nest 
wi'  a  witness. — And  the  man  that  spoke  to  Buder  in  the 
Park,  and  that  was  to  meet  wi'  Jeanie  Deans  at  Muschat's 
Cairn — whew  !  lay  that  and  that  thegither.  As  sure  as 
I  live,  he's  been  the  father  of  the  lassie's  wean." 

"  There  hae  been  waur  guesses  than  that,  I'm  think- 
ing," observed  Ratcliffe,  turning  his  quid  of  tobacco  in 
his  cheek,  and  squirting  out  the  juice.  "  I  heard  some- 
thing a  while  syne  about  his  drawing  up  wi'  a  bonny  quean 
about  the  Pleasants,  and  that  it  was  a'  Wilson  could  do 
to  keep  him  frae  marrying  her." 

Here  a  city  officer  entered,  and  told  Sharpitlaw  that 
they  had  the  woman  in  custody  whom  he  had  directed 
them  to  bring  before  him. 

"  It's  little  matter  now,"  said  he,  "  the  thing  is  taking 
another  turn  ;  however,  George,  ye  may  bring  her  in." 

The  officer  retired,  and  introduced,  upon  his  return,  a 
tall  strapping  wench  of  eighteen  or  twenty,  dressed  fan- 


19G  TALES    OV   MY   XANDLORD. 

tastically,  in  a  sort  of  blue  riding-jacket,  with  tarnished 
lace,  her  hair  clubbed  like  that  of  a  man,  a  Highland 
bonnet,  and  a  bunch  of  broken  feathers,  a  riding-skirt 
(or  petticoat)  of  scarlet  camlet,  embroidered  with  tar- 
nished flowers.  Her  features  were  coarse  and  mascu- 
line, yet  at  a  little  distance,  by  dint  of  very  bright  wild- 
looking  black  eyes,  an  aquiline  nose,  and  a  commanding 
profile,  appeared  rather  handsome.  She  flourished  the 
switch  she  held  in  her  hand,  dropped  a  curtsey  as  low  as 
a  lady  at  a  birth-night  introduction,  recovered  herself 
seemingly  according  to  Touchstone's  directions  to  Audrey, 
and  opened  the  conversation  without  waiting  till  any  ques- 
tions were  asked. 

"  God  gi'e  your  honour  gude  e'en,  and  mony  o'  them, 
bonny  Mr.  Sharpitlaw — Gude  e'en  to  ye,  Daddie  Ratton 
— they  tauld  me  ye  were  hanged,  man  ;  or  did  ye  get 
out  o'  John  Dalgliesh's  hands,  Hke  half-hangit  Maggie 
Dickson." 

^'  Whisht,  ye  daft  jaud,"  said  Ratcliffe,  "  and  hear 
what's  said  to  ye." 

"  \Vi'  a'  ray  heart,  Ratton.  Great  preferment  for 
poor  Madge  to  be  brought  up  the  street  wi'  a  grand 
man,  wi'  a  coat  a'  passemented  wi'  worset-lace,  to  speak 
wi'  provosts,  and  baillies,  and  town-clerks,  and  prokitors, 
at  this  time  o'  day — and  the  haill  town  looking  at  me  too 
— This  is  honour  on  earth  for  anes  !" 

*'  Ay,  Madge,"  said  Mr.  Sharpitlaw,  in  a  coaxing 
tone  ;  "  and  ye're  dressed  out  in  your  brav*s,  I  see  ; 
these  are  not  your  every-day's  claiths  ye  have  on." 

''  De'il  be  in  my  fingers,  then,"  said  Madge — "  Eh, 
sirs  !"  (observing  Butler  come  into  the-  apartment,) 
"  there's  a  minister  in  the  Tolbooth — wha  will  ca'  it  a 
graceless  place  now  ? — I'se  warrant  he's  in  for  the  gude 
auld  cause — but  its  be  nae  cause  o'  mine,"  and  off*  she 


"  Hey  for  cavaliers,  ho  for  cavaliers, 

Dud  a  dub, dub  a  dub  ; 

Have  at  old  Beelzebub, — 
Oliver's  runninsf  for  fear." 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTUIAN.  197 

"  Did  you  ever  see  that  mad-woman  before  ?"  said 
Sharpitlaw  to  Butler. 

'•  ?sot  to  ray  knowledge,  sir,"  replied  Butler. 

''  1  thought  as  much."  said  the  procurator-fiscal,  look- 
ing towards  Ratchffe,  who  ansvyered  his  glance  with  a 
nod  of  acquiescence  and  intelligence. 

"  But  that  is  ]\Jadge  Wildfire,  as  she  calls  herself/* 
said  the  man  of  law  to  Butler. 

"  Ay,  that  lam,"  said  Madge,  "  and  that  I  have  been 
ever  since  I  was  something  better — Heigh  ho" — (and 
something  like  melancholy  dwelt  on  her  features  for  a 
minute) — '•  But  I  canna  mind  when  that  was — it  was  lang 
syne  at  ony  rate,  and  I'll  ne'er  fash  ray  thumb  about  it. — 

"  I  glance  like  the  wildSre  through  country  and  town  ; 
I'm  seen  on  the  causeway — I'm  seen  on  the  down  ; 
The  lightning  that  flashes  so  bright  and  so  free, 
Is  scarcely  so  blithe  or  so  bc-noy  as  me."' 

"  Hand  your  tongue,  ye  skirling  limmer,"  said  the 
officer,  who  had  acted  as  master  of  the  ceremonies  to 
this  extraordinary  performer,  and  who  was  rather  scan- 
dalized at  the  freedom  of  her  demeanour  before  a  person 
of  Mr.  Sharpitlaw's  importance — "  hand  your  tongue,  or 
I'se  gie  ye  something  to  skirl  for." 

"  Let  her  alone,  George,"  said  Sharpitlaw  ;  *'  dinna 
put  her  out  o'  tune  ;  I  hae  some  questions  to  ask  her — 
But  first,  3Ir.  Butler,  take  another  look  of  her." 

"  Do  sae,  minister — do  sae,"  cried  3Iadge  ;  "  I  am  as 
weel  worth  looking  at  as  ony  book  in  your  aught. — And 
I  can  say  the  single  carritch,  and  the  double  carritch,  and 
justification,  and  effectual  callijig,  and  the  assembly  of 
divines  at  Westminster,  that  is,"  (she  added  in  a  low- 
tone,)  "  I  could  say  them  anes — but  its  lang  syne — and 
ane  forgets,  ye  ken."  And  poor  Madge  heaved  another 
deep  sigh. 

"  Weel,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Sharpidaw  to  Buder,  '•  what 
think  ye  now  .-*" 

17*       VOL.    I. 


198  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

"  As  I  did  before,"  said  Butler  ;  "  that  I  never  saw 
the  poor  demented  creature  in  my  life  before." 

"  Then  she  is  not  the  person  whom  you  said  the  riot- 
ers last  night  described  as  Madge  Wildfire  ?" 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Butler.  "  They  may  be  near 
the  same  height,  for  they  are  both  tall,  but  I  see  httle 
other  resemblance." 

"  Their  dress,  then,  is  not  alike  9"  said  Sharpitlavv. 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  said  Butler. 

"  Madge,  my  bonny  woman,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  in  the 
same  coaxing  manner,  "  what  did  ye  do  wi'  your  ilka- 
day's  claise  yesterday  .'^" 

"  1  dinna  mind,"  said  Madge. 

"  Where  was  ye  yesterday  at  e'en,  Madge  f" 

"  I  dinna  mind  ony  thing  about  yesterday,"  answered 
Madge  ;  "  ae  day  is  aneugh  for  ony  body  to  wun  ower 
wi'  at  a  time,  and  ower  muckle  sometimes." 

"  But  maybe,  Madge,  ye  wad  mind  something  about 
it,  if  I  was  to  gie  ye  this  half-crown  .'"'  said  Sharpitlaw, 
taking  out  the  piece  of  money. 

"  That  might  gar  me  laugh,  but  it  couldna  gar  me 
mind." 

"  But,  Madge,"  continued  Sharpitlaw,  '*  were  I  to 
send  you  to  the  wark-house  in  Leith  Wynd,  and  gar  Jock 
Dalgliesh  lay  the  tawse  on  your  back" 

"  That  wad  gar  me  greet,"  said  Madge,  sobbing, 
"  but  it  couldna  gar  me  mind,  ye  ken." 

"  She  is  ower  far  past  reasonable  folk's  motives,  sir," 
said  RatclifFe,  "  to  mind  siller,  or  John  Dalgliesh,  or  the 
cat  and  nine  tails  either  ;  but  I  think  I  could  gar  her  tell 
us  something." 

"  Try  her  then,  RatclifFe,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  "  for  I 
am  tired  of  her  crazy  pate,  and  be  d — d  to  her." 

"  Madge,"  said  RatclifFe,  "  hae  ye  ony  joes  now  .^" 

"  An  ony  body  ask  ye,  say  ye  dinna  ken. — Set  him  to 
be  speaking  o'  my  joes,  auld  Daddie  Ratton  !" 

"  I  dare  say,  ye  hae  de'il  ane  f " 

"  See  if  I  haena  then,"  said  Madge,  with  the  toss  of 
the  head  of  afFronted  beauty — "  there's  Rob  the  Ranter, 


THE    HEART   OF   MID-tOTHIAN.  199 

and  Will  Fleming,  and  then  there's  Geordie  Robertson, 
lad — that's  Gentleman  Geordie — what  think  ye  o'  that  9" 

Ratcliffe  laughed,  and,  winking  to  the  procurator-fiscal, 
pursued  the  inquiry  in  his  own  way.  "  But,  Madge,  the 
lads  only  hke  ye  when  ye  hae  on  your  braws — they  wad- 
na  touch  you  wi'  a  pair  o'  tangs  when  you  are  in  your 
auld  ilka-day  rags." 

*'  Ye're  a  leeing  auld  sorrow,  then  ;  for  Gentle  Geor- 
die Robertson  put  my  ilka-day's  claise  on  his  ain  bonnie 
sell  yestreen,  and  gaed  a'  through  the  town  wi'  them  ;  and 
gawsie  and  grand  he  lookit,  like  ony  queen  in  the  land." 

"  I  dinna  believe  a  word  o't,"  said  RatclifFe,  wntb 
another  wink  to  the  procurator.  "  Thae  duds  were  a'  o' 
the  colour  o'  moonshine  in  the  water,  I'm  thinking,  Madge 
— The  gown  wad  be  a  sky-blue  scarlet,  I'se  warrant  ye  *?" 

"  It  was  nae  sic  thing,"  said  Madge,  whose  unreten- 
tive  memory  let  out,  in  the  eagerness  of  contradiction, 
all  that  she  would  have  most  wished  to  keep  concealed, 
had  her  judgment  been  equal  to  her  inclination.  "  It 
was  neither  scarlet  nor  sky-blue,  but  my  ain  auld  brown 
threshie-coat  of  a  short  gown,  and  my  mother's  auld 
mutch,  and  my  red  rokelay— and  he  gied  me  a  croun  and 
a  kiss  for  the  use  o'  them,  blessing  on  his  bonnie  face — 
though  it's  been  a  dear  ane  to  me." 

"  And  where  did  he  change  his  clothes  again,  hinnie  .f*" 
said  Sharpitlaw,  in  his  most  conciliatory  manner. 

"  The  procurator's  spoiled  a',"  observed  RatclifFe, 
drily. 

And  it  was  even  so  ;  for  the  question,  put  in  so  direct 
a  shape,  immediately  awakened  Madge  to  the  propriety 
of  being  reserved  upon  those  very  topics  on  which  Rat- 
clifFe had  indirectly  seduced  her  to  become  communica- 
tive. 

*'  What  was't  ye  were  speering  at  us,  sir  f "  she  resum- 
ed, with  an  appearance  of  stolidity  so  speedily  assumed, 
as  showed  there  was  a  good  deal  of  knavery  mixed  with 
her  folly. 

'*  I  asked  you,"  said  the  procurator,  "  at  what  hour, 
and  to  what  place,  Robertson  brought  back  your  clothes." 


200  TALES   OF    MY  LANDLORD. 

"  Robertson  ? — Lord  baud  a  care  o'  us,  what  Robert- 
son r 

"  Why,  the  fellow  we  were  speaking  of,  Gentle  Geor- 
die,  as  you  call  him." 

"  Geordie  Gentle  ?"  answered  Madge,  with  well-feign- 
ed amazement — "  I  dinna  ken  naebody  they  ca'  Geordie 
Gentle." 

"  Come,  my  jo,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  "  this  will  not  do ; 
you  must  tell  us  what  you  did  with  these  clothes  of 
your's." 

Madge  Wildfire  made  no  answer,  unless  the  question 
may  seem  connected  with  the  snatch  of  a  song  with 
which  she  indulged  the  embarrassed  investigator  :  — 

"  What  did  ye  wi'  the  bridal  ring — bridal  ring- — bridal  ring  ? 
What  did  ye  wi'  your  wedding  ring,  ye  little  cutty  quean  O  ? 
I  gied  it  till  a  sodger,  a  sodger,  a  sodger, 
I  gied  it  till  a  sodger,  an  auld  true  love  o'  mine,  O." 

Of  all  the  mad-w^omen  who  have  sung  and  said,  since 
the  days  of  Hamlet  the  Dane,  if  Opheha  be  the  most 
affecting,  Madge  Wildfire  was  the  most  provoking. 

The  procurator-fiscal  was  in  despair.     "  I'll  take  some 

measures   with  this  d d  Bess  of  Bedlam,"  said  he. 

*'  that  shall  make  her  find  her  tongue." 

''  Wi'  your  favour,  sir,"  said  Ratcliffe,  "  better  let 
her  mind  settle  a  little — You  have  aye  made  out  some- 
thing." 

"  True,"  said  the  official  person  ;  "  a  brown  short- 
gown,  mutch,  red  rokelay— that  agrees  with  your  Madge 
Wildfire,  Mr.  Butler  .'^"     Butler  agreed  that  it  did  so. 

'^  Yes,  there  was  a  sufficient  motive  lor  taking  this 
crazv  creature's  dress  and  name  while  he  was  about  such 
a  job." 

'*  And  I  am  free  to  say  now?,"  said  Ratcliffe 

"  When  you  see  it  has  come  out  without  you,"  inter- 
rupted Sharpitlaw. 

'•  Just  sae,  sir,"  reiterated  Ratcliffe.  "  I  am  free  to 
say,  now  since  it's  come  out  otherwise,  that  these  were 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-IOTHIAST.  201 

the  clothes  I  saw  Robertson  wearing  last  night  in  the 
jail,  when  he  was  at  the  head  of  the  rioters." 

"  That's  direct  evidence,"  said  Sharpitlaw  ;  ^'  stick 
to  that,  Rat — I  will  report  favourably  of  you  to  the  pro- 
vost, for  I  have  business  for  you  to-night.  It  wears  late  ; 
I  must  home  and  get  a  snack,  and  I'll  be  back  in  the 
evening.  Keep  Madge  with  you,  RatchfFe,  and  try  to 
get  her  into  a  good  tune  again."  So  saying,  he  left  the 
prison. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

And  some  they  whistled — and  some  they  sang, 

And  some  did  loudly  say, 
Whenever  Lord  Bamard's  horn  it  blew, 

'■'■  Away,  Musgrave,  away  !" 

Ballad  of  Little  Musgrave. 

When  the  man  of  office  returned  to  the  Heart  of  Mid- 
Lothian,  he  resumed  his  conference  with  RatclifFe,  of 
whose  experience  and  assistance  he  now  held  himself  se- 
cure. "  You  must  speak  with  this  wench.  Rat — this  Effie 
Deans — you  must  sift  her  a  wee  bit  ;  for  as  sure  as  a 
tether  she  will  ken  Robertson's  haunts — till  her,  Rat — till 
her,  without  delay." 

"  Craving  your  pardon,  Mr.  Sharpitlaw,"  said  the  turn- 
key elect,  "  that's  what  lam  not  free  to  do." 

"  Free  to  do,  man  ?  what  the  de'il  ails  ye  now  f' — I 
thought  we  had  settled  a'  that." 

"  1  dinna  ken,  sir,"  said  RatclifFe  ;  "  I  hae  spoken  to 
this  Effie — she's  strange  to  this  place  and  to  its  ways,  and 
to  a'  our  ways,  Mr.  Sharpitlaw  ;  and  she  greets,  the  silly 
tawpie,  and  she's  breaking  her  heart  already  about  this 
wild  chield  ;  and  were  she  the  means  o'  taking  him,  she 
wad  break  it  outright." 


202  TALES    OF    MY   lANDtOED. 

"  She  wunna  hae  time,  lad,"  said  Sharpitlaw  ;  '^  the 
woodie  will  hae  his  aia  o'  her  before  that — a  woman's 
heart  takes  a  lang  time  o'  breaking." 

"  That's  according  to  the  stuff  they  are  made  o',  sir," 
replied  RatclifFe — "  but  to  make  a  lang  tale  short,  I  canna 
undertake  the  job.     It  gangs  against  my  conscience." 

"  Your  conscience,  Rat  .^"  said  Sharpitlaw,  with  a 
sneer,  which  the  reader  will  probably  think  very  natural 
upon  the  occasion. 

"  Ou  ay,  sir,"  answered  RatclifFe  calmly,  "  just  my 
conscience  ;  a'  body  has  a  conscience,  though  it  may  be 
ill  wunnin  at  it.  I  think  mine's  as  weel  out  o'  the  gate 
as  maist  folks'  are  ;  and  yet  its  just  like  the  noop  of  my 
elbow,  it  whiles  gets  a  bit  dirl  on  a  corner." 

"  Weel,  Rat,"  replied  Sharpitlaw,  "  since  ye  are  nice, 
I'll  speak  to  the  hussy  mysell." 

Sharpitlaw,  accordingly,  caused  himself  to  be  intro- 
duced into  the  little  dark  apartment  tenanted  by  the  un- 
fortunate Effie  Deans.  The  poor  girl  was  seated  on  her 
little  flock-bed,  plunged  in  a  deep  reverie.  Some  food 
stood  on  the  table,  of  a  quality  better  than  is  usually  sup- 
plied to  prisoners,  but  it  was  untouched.  The  person 
under  whose  care  she  was  more  particularly  placed,  said, 
"  that  sometimes  she  tasted  naething  frae  the  tae  end  of 
the  four-and-twenty  hours  to  the  t'other,  except  a  drink 
of  water." 

Sharpitlaw  took  a  chair,  and,  commanding  the  turnkey 
to  retire,  he  opened  the  conversation,  endeavouring  to 
throw  into  his  tone  and  countenance  as  much  commisera- 
tion as  they  were  capable  of  expressing,  for  the  one  was 
sharp  and  harsh,  the  other  sly,  acute,  and  selfish. 

"  How's  a'  wi'  ye,  Effie  f — How  d'ye  find  yoursell, 
hinny  9" 

A  deep  sigh  was  the  only  answer. 

"  Are  the  folk  civil  to  ye,  Effie  9 — it's  my  duty  to  in- 
quire." 

"  Very  civil,  sir,"  said  Effie,  compelling  herself  to  an- 
swer, yet  hardly  knowing  what  she  said. 


THE    HEART    0¥   MID-T.OTHIAX.  203 

"  And  your  victuals,"  continued  Sharpitlaw,  in  the 
same  condoling  tone — "  do  you  get  what  you  like  *? — or 
is  there  ony  thing  you  would  particularly  fancy,  as  your 
health  seems  but  silly  9" 

"  It's  a'  very  weel,  sir,  I  thank  ye,"  said  the  poor  pris- 
oner, in  a  tone  how  different  from  the  sportive  vivacity  of 
those  of  the  Lily  of  Saint  Leonard's  I — *'  it's  a'  very  gude 
—  ower  gude  for  me." 

"  He  must  have  been  a  great  villain,  Effie,  who  brought 
you  to  tills  pass,"  said  Sharpitlaw. 

The  remark  was  dictated  partly  by  a  natural  feeling,  of 
which  even  he  could  not  divest  himself,  though  accustom- 
ed to  practise  on  the  passions  of  others,  and  keep  a  most 
heedful  guard  over  his  own,  and  partly  by  his  wish  to  in- 
troduce the  sort  of  conversation  which  might  best  serve 
his  immediate  purpose.  Indeed,  upon  the  present  occa- 
sion, these  mixed  motives  of  feeling  and  cunning  har- 
monized together  wonderfully  ;  for,  said  Sharpitlaw  to 
himself,  the  greater  rogue  Robertson  is,  the  more  will  be 
the  merit  of  bringing  him  to  justice.  "  He  must  have 
been  a  great  villain,  indeed,"  he  again  reiterated  ;  "  and 
I  wish  I  had  the  skelping  o'  him." 

"  1  may  blame  mysell  mair  than  him,"  said  Effie  ;  "  1 

was  bred  up  to  ken  better,  but  he,  poor  fellow," (she 

stopped.) 

"  Was  a  thorough  blackguard  a'  his  life,  I  dare  say," 
said  Sharpitlaw.  "  A  stranger  he  was  in  this  country, 
and  a  companion  of  that  lawless  vagabond,  Wilson,  I 
think,  Effie." 

"  It  wad  hae  been  dearly  telling  him  that  he  had  ne'er 
seen  Wilson's  face." 

"  That's  very  true  that  you  are  saying,  Effie,"  said 
Sharpitlaw.  "  Where  was't  that  Robertson  and  you  were 
used  to  how^fF  thegither  9  Somegate  about  the  Laigh  Cal- 
ton,  I  am  thinking." 

The  simple  and  dispirited  girl  had  thus  far  followed 
Mr.  Sharpitlaw's  lead,  because  he  had  artfully  adjusted 
his  observations  to  the  thoughts  he  was  pretty  certain  must 
be  passing  through  her  own  mind,  so  that  her  answers  be- 


204  TALES    OF   MY    LANDLORD. 

came  a  kind  of  thinking  aloud,  a  mood  into  which  those 
who  are  either  constitutionally  absent  in  mind  or  are  ren- 
dered so  by  the  temporary  pressure  of  misfortune,  may 
be  easily  led  by  a  skilful  train  of  suggestions.  But  the 
last  observation  of  the  procurator-fiscal  was  too  much  of 
the  nature  of  a  direct  interrogatory,  and  it  broke  the 
charm  accordingly. 

"  What  was  it  that  I  was  saying  ?"  said  Effie,  starting 
up  from  her  reclining  posture,  seating  herself  upright,  and 
hastily  shading  her  dishevelled  hair  back  from  her  wast- 
ed, but  still  beautiful  countenance.  She  fixed  her  eyes 
boldly  and  keenly  upon  Sharpitlaw  ; — "  You  are  too  much 
of  a  gentleman,  sir, — too  much  of  an  honest  man,  to  take 
any  notice  of  what  a  poor  creature  like  me  says,  that  can 
hardly  ca'  my  senses  my  ain — God  help  me  !" 

"  Advantage  ! — 1  would  be  of  some  advantage  to  you 
if  I  could,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  in  a  sootliing  tone  ;  "  and  I 
ken  naething  sae  likely  to  serve  ye,  Effie,  as  gripping  this 
rascal  Robertson." 

"  O  dinna  misca'  him,  sir,  that  never  misca'd  you  ! 
Robertson  9 — I  am  sure  I  had  naething  to  say  against  ony 
man  o'  the  name,  and  naething  will  I  say." 

"  But  if  you  do  not  heed  your  own  misfortune,  Effie, 
you  should  mind  what  distress  he  has  brought  on  your 
family." 

"  O,  Heaven  help  me  !"  exclaimed  poor  Effie — "  My 
poor  father — my  dear  Jeanie — O,  that's  sairest  to  bide 
of  a'  !  O,  sir,  if  ye  hae  ony  kindness — if  ye  hae  ony 
touch  of  compassion — for  a'  the  folk  I  see  here  are  as 
hard  as  the  wa'-stanes — If  ye  wad  but  bid  them  let  my 
sister  Jeanie  in  the  next  time  she  ca's  !  for  when  I  hear 
them  put  her  awa'  frae  the  door,  and  canna  climb  up  to 
that  high  window  to  see  sae  muckle  as  her  gown-tail, 
its  like  to  pit  me  outo'  my  judgment."  And  she  looked 
on  him  with  a  face  of  entreaty  so  earnest,  yet  so  humble, 
that  she  fairly  shook  the  steadfast  purpose  of  his  mind. 

"  You  shall  see  your  sister,"  he  began,  "  if  you'll  tell 
me," — then,  interrupting  himself,  he  added,  in  a  more 
hurried  tone, — "  no,  d — n  it,  you  shall  see  your  sister 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-tOTHIAN.  205 

whether  you  tell  me  anything  or  no."  So  saying,  he  rose 
up  and  left  the  apartment. 

When  he  had  rejoined  RatclifFe,  he  observed,  "  You 
are  right,  Ratton  ;  there's  no  making  much  of  that  lassie. 
But  ae  thing  I  have  cleared — that  is,  that  Robertson  has 
been  the  father  of  the  bairn,  and  so  1  will  wager  a  bottle  it 
will  be  he  that's  to  meet  wi'  Jeanie  Deans  this  night  at 
Muschat's  Cairn,  and  there  we'll  nail  him,  Rat,  or  my 
name  is  not  Gideon  Sharpitlaw." 

"  But,"  said  Ratcliffe,  perhaps  because  he  was  in  no 
hurry  to  see  anything  which  was  like  to  be  connected  with 
the  discovery  and  apprehension  of  Robertson,  "  an  that 
were  the  case,  Mr.  Butler  wad  hae  kenn'd  the  man  in  the 
King's  Park  to  be  the  same  person  wi'  him  in  Madge 
Wildfire's  claise,  that  headed  the  mob." 

"  That  makes  nae  difference,  man,"  rephed  Sharpitlaw 
— "  the  dress,  the  hght,  the  confusion,  and  maybe  a  touch 
o'  a  blackit  cork,  or  a  slake  o'  paint — hout,  Ratton,  I 
have  seen  ye  dress  your  ainsell,  that  the  deevil  ye  belaog 
to  durstna  hae  made  oatht'ye." 

"  And  that's  true,  too,"  said  RatclifFe. 

"  And  besides,  ye  donnard  carle,"  continued  Sharpit- 
law, triumphantly,  "  the  minister  c?iV/  say,  that  he  thought 
he  knew  something  of  the  features  of  the  birkie  that 
spoke  to  him  in  the  Park,  though  he  could  not  charge  his 
memory  where  or  when  he  had  seen  them." 

''  It's  evident,  then,  your  honour  will  be  right,"  said 
RatclifFe. 

"  Then,  Rat,  you  and  1  will  go  with  the  party  oursells 
this  night,  and  see  him  in  grips  or  we  are  done  wi'  him." 

"  I  seena  muckle  use  I  can  be  o'  to  your  honour,"  said 
RatclifFe,  reluctantly. 

*'  Use  9"  answered  Sharpitlaw — "  You  can  guide  the 
party — you  ken  the  ground.  Besides,  I  do  not  intend  to 
quit  sight  of  you,  my  good  friend,  till  I  have  him  in  hand." 

"  Weel,  sir,"  said  RatclifFe,  but  in  no  joyful  tone  of  ac- 
quiescence ;  "  Ye  maun  hae  it  your  ain  way — but  mind 
he's  a  desperate  man." 

18       VOL.    I. 


206  TALES    OE    MY   LANDLORD. 

"  We  shall  have  that  with  us,"  answered  Sharpitlaw, 
"  that  will  settle  him,  if  it  is  necessary." 

"  But,  sir,"  answered  Ratcliffe,  "  I  am  sure  I  couldna 
undertake  to  guide  you  to  Muschat's  Cairn  in  the  night- 
time ;  I  ken  the  place,  as  mony  does,  in  fair  daylight,  but 
how  to  find  it  out  by  moonshine,  amang  sae  mony  crags  and 
stanes,  as  like  to  each  other  as  the  collier  to  the  de'il,  is  mair 
than  I  can  tell.  1  might  as  soon  seek  moonshine  in  water." 

"  What's  the  meaning  o'  this,  Ratcliife  ^"  said  Sharp- 
itlaw, while  he  fixed  his  eye  on  the  recusant,  with  a  fatal 
and  ominous  expression, — "  Have  you  forgotten  that  you 
are  still  under  sentence  of  death  ?" 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Riitcliffe,  ''  that's  a  thing  no  easily  put 
out  o'  memory  ;  and  if  my  presence  be  judged  necessa- 
ry, uae  doubt  I  maun  gang  wi'  your  honour.  But  I  was 
gaun  to  tell  your  honour  of  ane  that  has  mair  skeell  o' 
the  gate  than  me,  and  that's  e'en  Madge  Wildfire." 

"  The  devil  she  has  ! — Do  you  think  me  as  mad  as 
she  is,  to  trust  to  her  guidance  on  such  an  occasion  :"' 

"  Your  honour  is  best  judge,"  answered  Ratclifl^e  ; 
*'  but  I  ken  1  can  keep  her  in  tune,  and  gar  her  baud  the 
straight  path — she  aften  sleeps  out  or  rambles  about 
amang  thae  hills  the  haiil  simmer  night,  the  daft  hmmer." 

"  Well,  Ratchfi^e,"  replied  the  procurator-fiscal,  "  if 
you  think  she  can  guide  us  the  right  way — but  take  heed 
to  what  you  are  about — your  life  depends  on  your  be- 
haviour." 

"  It's  a  sair  judgment  on  a  man,"  said  Ratcliffe,  "  when 
he  has  ance  gane  sae  far  wrang  as  I  hae  done,  that  de'il 
a  bit  he  can  be  honest,  try't  whilk  way  he  will." 

Such  was  the  reflection  of  Ratclifl^e,  when  he  was  left 
for  a  few  miuLites  to  himself,  while  the  retainer  of  justice 
went  to  procure  a  proper  warrant,  and  give  the  neces- 
sary directions. 

The  rising  moon  saw  the  whole  party  free  from  the 
walls  of  the  city,  and  entering  upon  the  open  ground. 
Arthur's  Seat,  hke  a  couchant  hon  of  immense  size— Sal- 
isbury Crags,  like  a  huge  belt  or  girdle  of  granite,  were 
dimly  visible.     Holding  tlieir  path  along  the  southern  side 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAX.  207 

of  the  Canongate,  they  gained  the  Abbey  of  Holyrood- 
house,  and  from  thence  found  their  way  by  step  and  stile 
into  the  King's  Park.  Tliey  were  at  first  four  in  number 
— an  officer  of  justice  and  Sharpitlaw,  who  were  well 
armed  with  pistols  and  cutlasses  ;  Ratcliffe,  who  was  not 
trusted  with  weapons,  lest  he  might,  peradventure,  have 
used  them  on  the  wrong  side  ;  and  the  female.  But  at 
the  last  stile,  when  they  entered  the  Chase,  they  were 
joined  by  other  two  officers,  whom  Sharpitlaw,  desirous 
lo  secure  sufficient  force  for  his  purpose,  and  at  the  same 
tiu)e.lo  avoid  observation,  had  directed  to  wait  for  him  at 
this  place.  RatclifFe  saw  this  accession  of  strength  with 
some  disquietude,  for  he  had  hitherto  thought  it  likely  that 
Robertson,  who  was  a  bold,  stout,  and  active  young  fellow, 
might  have  made  his  escape  from  Sharpitlaw  and  the  of- 
ficer, by  force  or  agility,  without  his  being  implicated  in 
the  matter.  But  the  present  strength  of  the  followers  of 
justice  was  overpowering,  and  the  only  mode  of  saving 
Robertson,  (which  the  old  sinner  was  well  disposed  to  do, 
providing  always  he  could  accomplish  his  purpose  without 
compromising  his  own  safety,)  must  be  by  contriving  that 
he  should  have  some  signal  of  their  approach.  It  was 
probably  with  this  view  that  RatclifFe  had  requested  the 
addition  of  Madge  to  the  party,  having  considerable  con- 
fidence in  her  propensity  to  exert  her  lungs.  Indeed,  she 
had  already  given  them  so  many  specimens  of  her  clam- 
orous loquacity,  that  Sharpitlaw^  half  determined  to  send 
her  back  with  one  of  the  officers,  rather  than  carry  for- 
ward in  his  company  a  person  so  extremely  ill  qualified 
to  be  guide  in  a  secret  expedition.  It  seemed,  too,  as  if 
the  open  air,  the  approach  to  the  hills,  and  the  ascent  of 
the  moon,  supposed  to  be  so  portentous  over  those  u^ose 
brain  is  infirm,  made  her  spirits  rise  in  a  degree  tenfold 
more  loquacious  than  she  had  hitherto  exhibited.  To 
silence  her  by  fair  means  seemed  impossible  ;  authorita- 
tive commands  and  coaxing  entreaties  she  set  alike  at  de- 
fiance, and  threats  only  made  her  sulky,  and  altogether 
intractable. 


208  TALES    OF    MY   lANDtORD. 

"  Is  there  no  one  of  you,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  impatient- 
ly, "  that  knows  the  way  to  this  accursed  place — this  Nicol 
Sluschat's  Cairn — excepting  this  mad  clavering  idiot  ?" 

"  De'il  ane  o'  them  kens  it,  except  mysell,"  exclaimed 
Madge  ;  "  how  suld  they,  the  poor  fuJe  cowards  f  But 
I  hae  sat  on  the  grave  frae  bat-fleeing  time  till  cock-crow, 
and  had  mony  a  fine  crack  wi'  Nicol  Muschat  and  Ailie 
Muschat,  that  are  lying  sleeping  below." 

"  The  devil  take  your  crazy  brain,"  said  Sharpitlaw  ; 
'*  will  you  not  allow  the  men  to  answer  a  question  ?" 

The  officers,  obtaining  a  moment's  audience  while  Rat- 
cliffe  diverted  Madge's  attention,  declared,  that,  though 
they  had  a  general  knowledge  of  the  spot,  they  could  not 
undertake  to  guide  the  party  to  it  by  the  uncertain  light 
oT  the  moon,  with  such  accuracy  as  to  insure  success  ta 
their  expedition. 

"  What  shall  we  do,  RatcliiFe  ?"  said  Sharpitlaw  ;  "  if 
he  sees  us  before  we  see  him, — and  that's  what  he  is  cer- 
tain to  do,  if  we  go  strolling  about,  without  keeping  the 
straight  road, — we  may  bid  gude  day  to  the  job  ;  and  I 
wad  rather  lose  one  hundred  pounds,  baith  for  the  credit 
of  the  police,  and  because  the  Provost  says  somebody 
maun  be  hanged  for  this  job  o'  Porteous,  come  o't  what 
likes." 

*'  I  think,"  said  RatclifFe,  "  we  maun  just  try  Madge ; 
and  I'll  see  if  I  can  get  her  keepit  in  ony  better  order. 
And  at  ony  rate,  if  he  suld  hear  her  skirling  her  auld 
ends  o'  sangs,  he's  no  to  ken  for  that  that  there's  ony  body 
wi'  her." 

"  That's  true,"  said  Sharpitlaw  ;  *'  and  if  he  thinks 
her  alone,  he's  as  like  to  come  towards  her  as  to  rin  frae 
her.  So  set  forward — we  have  lost  ower  muckle  time 
already — see  to  get  her  to  keep  the  right  road." 

"  And  what  sort  o'  house  does  Nicol  Muschat  and  his 
wife  keep  now  ?"  said  RatchfFe  to  the  mad  woman,  by 
way  of  humouring  her  vein  of  folly  ;  "  they  were  but 
ihrawn  folk  lang  syne,  an  a'  tales  be  true." 

"  Ou,  ay,  ay,  ay — but  a's  forgotten  now,"  replied 
Madge,  in  the  confidential  tone  of  a  gossip  giving  the  his- 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIATf .  209 

tory  of  her  next-door  neighbour — "  Ye  see  I  spoke  to 
them  mysell,  and  tauld  them  byganes  suld  be  byganes — 
her  throat's  sair  mis-guggled  and  mashackered,  though  she 
wears  her  corpse-sheet  drawn  weel  up  to  hide  it,  but  that 
canna  hinder  the  bhiid  seiping  through,  ye  ken.  I  wus- 
sed  her  to  wash  it  in  St.  Anthony's  Well,  and  thtit  will 
cleanse  if  onything  can. — But  they  say  bluid  never 
bleaches  out  o'  linen  claith — Deacon  Sanders's  new  clean- 
sing draps  winna  do't — I  tried  them  mysell  on  a  bit  rag 
we  hae  at  hame  that  was  mailed  wi'  the  bluid  of  a  bit 
skirling  wean  that  was  hurt  some  gate,  but  out  it  winna 
come — Weel,  ye'il  say  that's  queer  ;  but  I  will  bring  it  out 
to  St.  Anthony's  blessed  Well  some  braw  night  just  like 
this,  and  Til  cry  up  Ailie  Muschat,  and  she  and  1  wjjl  hae 
a  grand  bouking-washing,  and  bleach  our  claise  in  the 
beams  of  the  bonny  Lady  Moon,  that's  far  pleasanter  to 
me  than  the  sun — the  sun's  ower  het,  and  ye  ken,  cum- 
mers, my  brains  are  het  aneugh  already.  But  the  moon, 
and  the  dew,  and  the  night-wind,  they  are  just  like  a  cal- 
lar  kail-blade  laid  on  my  brow  ;  and  whiles  I  think  the 
moon  just  shines  on  purpose  to  pleasure  me,  when  nae- 
body  sees  her  but  mysell." 

This  raving  discourse  she  continued  with  prodigious 
volubility,  walking  on  at  a  great  pace,  and  dragging  Rat- 
clifFe  along  with  her,  while  he  endeavoured,  in  appearance 
at  least,  if  not  in  reahty,  to  induce  her  to  moderate  her 
voice. 

All  at  once,  she  stopped  short  upon  the  top  of  a  little 
liillock,  gazed  upward  fixedly,  and  said  not  one  word  for 
the  space  of  five  minutes.  "  What  the  devil  is  the  mat- 
ter with  her  now  9"  said  Sharpitlaw  to  Ratcliffe — "  Can 
you  not  get  her  forward  *?" 

"  Ye  maun  just  take  a  grain  o'  patience  wi'  her,  sir," 
said  Ratcliffe.  "  She'll  no  gae  a  foot/aster  than  she  hkes 
hfersell — she'll  take  her  ain  time." 

"  D — n  her,  I'll  take  care  she  has  her  time  in  Bedlam 
or  Bridewell,  or  both,  for  she's  both  mad  and  mischiev- 
ous."    In  the  meanwhile,  Madge,  who  had  looked  very 

18*       VOL.    I. 


210  TALES    OF   MY    LANDLORD. 

pensive  when  she  first  stopped,  suddenly  burst  into  a  ve- 
hement fit  of  laughter,  then  paused  and  sighed  bitterly, — 
then  was  seized  with  a  second  fit  of  laughter, — then  fixed 
her  eyes  on  the  moon,  hfted  up  her  voice  and  sung,- — 

"  Good  even,  good  fair  moon,  good  even  to  thee  ; 
1  prithee,  dear  moon,  now  show  to  me 
The  form  and  the  features,  the  speech  and  degree, 
Of  the  man  that  true  lover  of  mine  shall  be." 

'^  But  I  need  not  ask  that  of  the  bonny  Lady  Moon — I 
ken  that  weel  aneugh  mysell — ^rwe-love  though  he  w^asna. 
— But  naebody  shall  say  that  I  ever  tauld  a  word  about 
the  matter — But  whiles  I  wish  the  bairn  had  hved — Weel, 
God  guide  us  !  there's  a  heaven  aboon  us  a'," — (here  she 
sighed  bhterly,)  "  and  a  bonny  moon,  and  sterns  in  it 
forbye,"  (and  here  she  laughed  once  more.) 

"  Are  we  to  stand  here  all  night  ?"  said  Sharpitlaw, 
very  impatiently.     *'  Drag  her  forward." 

"  Ay,  sir,"  said  Ratclifie,  "  if  we  kenn'd  whilk  way  to 
drag  her,  that  wad  settle  it  at  ance. — Come,  Madge,  hin- 
ny,"  addressing  her,  "  we'll  no  be  in  time  to  see  Nicol 
and  his  wife,  unless  ye  show  us  the  road." 

"  In  troth  and  that  I  will,  Ratton,"  said  she,  seizing  him 
by  the  arm,  and  resuming  her  route  with  huge  strides,  con- 
sidering it  was  a  female  who  took  them.  "  And  I'll  tell 
ye,  Ratton,  blithe  will  Nicol  PJuschat  be  to  see  ye,  for  he 
says  he  kens  v/eel  there  is  nae  sic  a  villain  out  o'  hell  as 
ye  are,  and  he  wad  be  ravished  to  hae  a  crack  wi'  you — 
like  to  like,  ye  ken — it's  a  proverb  never  fails — and  ye 
are  baith  a  pair  o'  the  deevil's  peats,  I  trow — hard  to  ken 
whilk  deserves  the  hettest  corner  o'  his  ingle-side." 

RatclifFe  was  conscience-struck,  and  could  not  forbear 
making  an  involuntary  protest  against  this  classification. 
"  I  never  shed  blood,"  he  replied. 

"  But  ye  hae  sauld  it,  Ratton — ye  hae  sauld  blood  mony 
a  time.  Folk  kill  wi'  the  tongue  as  weel  as  wi'  the  hand 
— wi'  the  word  as  weel  as  wi'  the  gulley, — 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  211 

"  It  is  the  bonny  butcher  lad, 

That  wears  the  sleeves  of  blue, 
He  sells  the  flesh  on  Saturday, 

On  Friday  that  he  slew.'' 

"  And  what  is  that  I  am  doing  now  ?"  thought  R^- 
cliffe.  "  But  I'll  hae  nae  wyte  of  Robertson's  young 
bluid,  if  I  can  help  it ;"  then,  speaking  apart  to  Madge, 
he  asked  her,  "  Whether  she  did  not  remember  ony  o' 
her  auld  sangs  ?" 

"  Mony  a  dainty  ane,"  said  Madge  ;  "  and  bhthely  can 
T  sing  them,  for  hghtsome  sangs  make  merry  gate."  And 
she  sang, — 

"  Wheu  the  gledd's  in  the  blue  cloud, 

The  lavrock  lies  still  ; 
When  the  hound's  in  the  green-wood, 

The  hind  keeps  the  hill." 

"  Silence  her  cursed  noise,  if  you  should  throttle  her," 
said  Sharpitlavv  ;  "  I  see  somebody  yonder. — Keep  close, 
my  boys,  and  creep  round  the  shoulder  of  the  height. 
George  Poinder,  stay  you  with  Ratchffe  and  that  mad 
bitch  ;  and  you  other  two,  come  with  me  round  under 
the  shadow  of  the  brae." 

And  he  crept  forward  with  the  stealthy  pace  of  an  In- 
dian savage,  who  leads  his  band  to  surprise  an  unsuspect- 
ing party  of  some  hostile  tribe.  RatclifFe  saw  them  glide 
off,  avoiding  the  moonlight,  and  keeping  as  much  in  the 
shade  as  possible.  "  Robertson's  done  up,"  said  he  to 
himself ;  "  thae  young  lads  are  aye  sae  thoughtless. 
What  deevil  could  he  hae  to  say  to  Jeanie  Deans,  or  to 
ony  woman  on  earth,  that  he  suld  gang  awa'  and  get  his 
neck  raxed  for  her  f  And  this  mad  quean,  after  cracking 
Hke  a  pen-gun,  and  skirling  like  a  pea-hen  for  the  haill 
night,  behoves  just  to  hae  hadden  her  tongue  when  her 
clavers  might  have  done  some  gude  !  But  its  aye  the  way 
wi'  women  ;  if  they  ever  baud  their  tongues  ava',  ye  may 
swear  it's  for  mischief.  I  wish  I  could  set  her  on  again 
without  this  blood-sucker  kenning  what  I  am  doing.     But 


212  TALES   OF   MY  LANDLORD. 

he's  as  gleg  as  Mackeachan's  elshin,  that  ran  through  sax 
plies  of  bend-leather  and  half  an  inch  into  the  king's  heel." 
He  then  began  to  hum,  but  in  a  very  low  and  suppres- 
sed tone,  the  first  stanza  of  a  favourite  ballad  of  Wild- 
fire's, the  words  of  which  bore  some  distant  analogy  with 
tfie  situation  of  Robertson,  trusting  that  the  power  of  as- 
sociation would  not  fail  to  bring  the  rest  to  her  mind  ; 

"  There's  a  bloodhound  ranging  Tinwald  Woo<f, 

There's  harness  glancing  sheen  ; 
There's  a  maiden  sits  on  Tinwald  brae, 

And  she  sings  loud  between." 

Madge  had  no  sooner  received  the  catch-word,  than 
she  vindicated  Ratclifle's  sagacity  by  setting  off  at  score 
with  the  song  : 

"  Oh  sleep  ye  sound,  Sir  James,  she  said, 

When  ye  suld  rise  and  ride  ? 
There's  twenty  men,  wi"  bow  and  blade, 

Are  seeking  where  ye  hide." 

Though  RatclifFe  was  at  a  considerable  distance  from 
the  spot  called  Muschat's  Cairn,  yet  his  eyes,  practised 
like  those  of  a  cat  to  penetrate  darkness,  could  mark  that 
Robertson  had  caught  the  alarm.  George  Poinder,  less 
keen  of  sight,  or  less  attentive,  was  not  aware  of  his  flight 
any  more  than  Sharpitlaw  and  his  assistants,  whose  view, 
though  they  were  considerably  nearer  to  the  cairn,  was 
intercepted  by  the  broken  nature  of  the  ground  under 
which  they  were  screening  themselves.  At  length,  how- 
ever, after  the  interval  of  five  or  six  minutes,  they  also 
perceived  that  Robertson  had  fled,  and  rushed  hastily  to- 
wards the  place,  while  Sharpitlaw  called  out  aloud,  in  the 
harshest  tones  of  a  voice  which  resembled  a  saw-mill  at 
work,  "  Chase,  lads — chase — baud  the  brae — I  see  him 
on  the  edge  of  the  hill."  Then  hollowing  back  to  the 
rear-guard  of  his  detachment,  he  issued  his  farther  or- 
ders :  "  RatclifFe,  come  here,  and  detain  the  woman — 
George,  run  and  keep  the  stile  at  the  Duke's  Walk — Rat- 


THE    HEART   OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  213 

cliffe,  come  here  directly — but  first  knock  out  that  mad 
bitch's  brains." 

"  Ye  had  better  rin  for  it,  Madge,"  said  Ratcliffe,  "  for 
it's  ill  dealing  vvi'  an  angry  man." 

Madge  Wildfire  was  not  so  absolutely  void  of  common 
sense  as  not  to  understand  this  innuendo  ;  and  while  Rat- 
cliife,  in  seemingly  anxious  haste  of  obedience,  hastened 
to  the  spot  where  Sharpitlaw  waited  to  deliver  up  Jeanie 
Deans  to  his  custody,  she  fled  with  all  the  despatch  she 
could  exert  in  an  opposite  direction.  Thus  the  whole 
party  were  separated,  and  in  rapid  motion  of  flight  or  pur- 
suit, excepting  Ratcliffe  and  Jeanie,  whom,  although  mak- 
ing no  attempt  to  escape,  he  held  fast  by  the  cloak,  and 
who  remained  standing  by  Muschat's  Cairn. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

You  have  paid  the  heavens  your  function,  and  the  prisoner  the  very  debt  of 
your  calling.  Measure  for  Measure. 

Jeanie  Deans, — for  her  own  story  unites  itself  with 
that  part  of  the  narrative  which  broke  off"  at  the  end  of 
chapter  XIV., — while  she  waited  in  terror  and  amaze- 
ment, the  hasty  advance  of  three  or  four  men  towards 
her,  was  yet  more  startled  at  their  suddenly  breaking 
asunder,  and  giving  chase  in  different  directions  to  the  late 
object  of  her  terror,  who  became  at  that  moment,  though 
she  could  not  well  assign  a  reasonable  cause,  rather  the 
object  of  her  interest.  One  of  the  party  (it  was  Sharp- 
itlaw) came  straight  up  to  her,  and  saying,  "  Your  name 
is  Jeanie  Deans,  and  you  are  my  prisoner,"  immediately 
added,  "  but  if  you  will  tell  me  which  way  he  ran  I  will 
let  you  go." 

"  I  dinna  ken,  sir,"  was  all  the  poor  girl  could  utter  ; 
and,  indeed,  it  is  the  phrase  which  rises  most  readily  to 


214  TALES    OF   MY   liAKDLORD. 

the  lips  of  any  person  in  her  rank,  as  the  readiest  reply 
to  any  embarrassing  question. 

''  But  ye  ken  wha  it  was  ye  were  speaking  wi',  my 
leddy,  on  the  hill  side,  and  midnight  sae  near  ;  ye  surely 
ken  that,  my  bonny  woman  '?" 

"  1  dinna  ken,  sir,"  again  iterated  Jeanie,  who  really 
did  not  comprehend  in  her  terror  the  nature  of  the  ques- 
tions which  were  so  hastily  put  to  her  in  this  moment  of 
surprise. 

"  We  will  try  to  mend  your  memory  by  and  by,  hin- 
ny,"  said  Sharpitlaw,  and  shouted,  as  we  have  already 
told  the  reader,  to  RatclifTe,  to  come  up  and  take  charge 
of  her,  while  he  himself  directed  the  chase  after  Robert- 
son, which  he  still  hoped  might  be  successful.  As  Rat- 
cliffe  approached,  Sharpitlaw  pushed  the  young  woman 
towards  him  with  some  rudeness*,  and,  betaking  himself 
to  the  more  important  objects  of  his  quest,  began  to  scale 
crags  and  scramble  up  steep  banks,  with  an  agility  of  which 
his  profession  and  general  gravity  of  demeanour  would 
previously  have  argued  him  incapable.  In  a  few  minutes 
there  was  no  one  within  sight,  and  only  a  distant  halloo 
from  one  of  the  pursuers  to  the  other,  faintly  heard  on  the 
side  of  the  hill,  argued  that  there  was  any  one  within 
hearing.  Jeanie  Deans  was  left  in  the  clear  moonlight, 
standing  under  the  guard  of  a  person  of  whom  she  knew 
nothing,  and,  what  was  worse,  concerning  whom,  as  the 
reader  is  well  aware,  she  could  have  learned  nothing  that 
would  not  have  increased  her  terror. 

When  all  in  the  distance  was  silent,  RatclifTe  for  the 
first  time  addressed  her,  and  it  was  in  that  cold  sarcastic 
indifFerent  tone  familiar  to  habitual  depravity,  whose 
crimes  are  instigated  by  custom  rather  than  by  passion. 
"  This  is  a  braw  night  for  ye,  dearie,"  he  said,  attempting 
to  pass  his  arm  across  her  shoulder,  "  to  be  on  the  green 
hill  wi'  your  jo."  Jeanie  extricated  herself  from  his 
grasp,  but  did  not  make  any  reply.  "  J  think  lads  and 
lasses,"  continued  the  ruffian,  "  dinna  meet  at  Muschat's 
Cairn  at  midnight  to  crack  nuts,"  and  he  again  attempted 
to  take  hold  of  her. 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTUIAX.  215 

"  If  ye  are  an  officer  of  justice,  sir,"  said  Jeanie,  again 
eluding  his  attempt  to  seize  her,  "  ye  deserve  to  have 
your  coat  stripped  from  your  back." 

"  Very  true,  hinny,"  said  he,  succeeding  forcibly  in  his 
attempt  to  s-eize  her,  "  but  suppose  1  should  strip  your 
cloak  off  first  9" 

"  Ye  are  more  a  man,  I  am  sure,  than  to  hurt  me,  sir," 
said  Jeanie  ;  "  for  God's  sake  have  pity  on  a  half-distract- 
ed creature  !" 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Ratcliffe,  "  you're  a  good-look- 
ing wench,  and  should  not  be  cross-grained.  I  was 
going  to  be  an  honest  man — but  the  devil  has  this  very 
day  flung  first  a  lawyer,  and  then  a  woman,  in  my  gale. 
I'll  tell  you  what,  Jeanie,  they  are  out  on  the  hill-side — if 
you'll  be  guided  by  me,  I'll  carry  you  to  a  wee  bit  corner 
in  the  Pleasance,  that  I  ken  o'  in  an  auld  wife's,  that  a' 
the  prokitors  o'  Scotland  wot  naething  o',  and  we'll  send 
Robertson  word  to  meet  us  in  Yorkshire,  for  there  is  a  set 
o'  braw  lads  about  the  mid-land  counties,  thai  I  hae  dune 
business  wi'  before  now,  and  sae  we'll  leave  Mr.  Sharpit- 
law  to  whistle  on  his  thumb." 

It  was  fortunate  for  Jeanie,  in  an  emergency  like  the 
present,  that  she  possessed  presence  of  mind  and  courage, 
so  soon  as  the  first  hurry  of  surprise  had  enabled  her  to 
rally  her  recollection.  She  saw  the  risk  she  was  in  from 
a  ruffian,  who  not  only  was  such  by  profession,  but  had 
that  evening  been  stupifying,  by  means  of  strong  liquors, 
the  mternal  aversion  which  he  felt  at  the  business  on  which 
Sharpitlaw  had  resolved  to  employ  him. 

"  Dinna  speak  sae  loud,"  said  sne,  in  a  low  voice, 
"  he's  up  yonder." 

"  Who  "]— Robertson  *?"  said  Ratcliffe,  eagerly. 

"  Ay,"  replied  Jeanie  ;  "  up  yonder  ;"  and  she  point- 
ed to  the  ruins  of  the  hermitage  and  chapel. 

"  By  G — d,  then,"  said  Ratcliffe,  "  I'll  make  my  ain 
of  him,  either  one  way  or  other — wait  for  me  here." 

But  no  sooner  had  he  set  off,  as  fast  as  he  could  run, 
towards  the  chapel,  than  Jeanie  started  in  an  oppoiite  di- 
rection, over  high  and  low,  on  the  nearest  path  homeward. 


216  TALES    or   MY   lANDLORD. 

Her  juvenile  exercise  as  a  herds-woman  had  put  "  life 
and  mettle"  in  her  heels,  and  never  had  she  followed 
Dustiefoot,  when  the  cows  were  in  the  corn,  with  half  so 
much  speed  as  she  now  cleared  the  distance  betwixt 
Muschat's  Cairn  and  her  father's  cottage  at  Saint  Leon- 
ard's. To  lift  the  latch — to  enter — to  shut,  bolt,  and 
double  bolt  the  door — to  draw  against  it  a  heavy  article  of 
furniture,  (which  she  could  not  have  moved  in  a  moment 
of  less  energy,)  so  as  to  make  yet  farther  provision  against 
violence,  was  almost  the  work  of  a  moment,  yet  done  with 
such  silence  as  equalled  the  celerity. 

Her  next  anxiety  was  upon  her  father's  account,  and 
she  drew  silently  to  the  door  of  his  apartment,  in  order 
to  satisfy  herself  whether  he  had  been  disturbed  by  her 
return.  He  was  awake, — probably  had  slept  but  little  ; 
but  the  constant  presence  of  his  own  sorrows,  the  distance 
of  his  apartment  from  the  outer-door  of  the  house,  and 
the  precautions  which  Jeanie  had  taken  to  conceal  her 
departure  and  return,  had  prevented  hun  from  being  sen- 
sible of  either.  He  was  engaged  in  his  devotions,  and 
Jeanie  could  distinctly  hear  him  use  these  words  :  "  And 
for  the  other  child  thou  hast  given  me  to  be  a  comfort  and 
stay  to  my  old  age,  may  her  days  be  long  in  the  land,  ac- 
cording to  the  promise  thou  hast  given  to  those  who  shall 
honour  father  and  mother  ;  may  all  her  purchased  and 
promised  blessings  be  multiplied  upon  her  ;  keep  her  in 
the  watches  of  the  night,  and  in  the  uprising  of  the  morn- 
ing, that  all  in  this  land  may  know  that  thou  hast  not  ut- 
terly hid  thv  face  from  those  who  seek  thee  in  truth  and 
in  sincerity  !"  He  w^ns  silent,  but  probably  continued  his 
petition  in  the  strong  fervency  of  mental  devotion. 

His  daughter  retired  to  her  apartment,  comforted,  that 
while  she  was  exposed  to  danger,  her  head  had  been  cov- 
ered by  the  prayers  of  the  just  as  by  a  helmet,  and  un- 
der the  strong  confidence,  that  while  she  walked  worthy 
of  the  protection  of  Heaven,  she  would  experience  its 
countenance.  It  was  in  that  moment  that  a  vague  idea 
first  darted  across  her  mind,  that  something  might  yet  be 
achieved  for  her  sister's  safety,  conscious  as  she  now  was 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAX.  217 

of  her  innocence  of  the  unnatural  murder  with  which  she 
stood  charged.  It  came,  as  she  described  it,  on  her  mind 
like  a  sun-blink  on  a  stormy  sea  ;  and  although  it  instantly 
vanished,  yet  she  felt  a  degree  of  composure  which  she 
had  not  experienced  for  many  days,  and  could  not  help 
being  strongly  persuaded,  that,  by  some  means  or  other, 
she  would  be  called  upon,  and  directed,  to  work  out  her 
sister's  deliverance.  She  went  to  bed,  not  forgetting  her 
usual  devotions,  the  more  fervently  made  on  account  of 
her  late  deliverance,  and  she  slept  soundly  in  spite  of  her 
agitation. 

We  must  return  to  Ratcliffe,  who  had  started,  like  a 
greyhound  from  the  slips  when  the  sportsman  cries  halloo, 
as  soon  as  Jeanie  had  pointed  to  the  ruins.  Whether  he 
meant  to  aid  Robertson's  escape,  or  to  assist  his  pursuers, 
may  be  very  doubtful ;  perhaps  he  did  not  know  himself, 
but  had  resolved  to  be  guided  by  circumstances.  He  had 
no  opportunity,  however,  of  doing  either  ;  for  he  had  no 
sooner  surmounted  the  steep  ascent,  and  entered  under 
the  broken  arches  of  the  ruins,  than  a  pistol  was  present- 
ed at  his  head,  and  a  harsh  voice  commanded  him,  in  the 
king's  name,  to  surrender  himself  prisoner.  "  IMr.  Sharp- 
itlaw,"  said  Ratcliffe,  surprised,  "  is  this  your  honour  9" 

"  Is  it  only  you,  and  be  d — d  to  you  V^  answered  the 
fiscal,  still  more  disappointed — '*  what  made  you  leave 
the  woman  V 

"  She  told  me  she  saw  Robertson  go  into  the  ruins,  so 
I  made  what  haste  I  could  to  cleek  the  callant." 

"  It's  all  over  now,"  said  Sharpitlaw  ;  "  we  shall  see 
no  more  of  him  to-night  ;  but  he  shall  hide  himself  in  a 
bean-hool,  if  he  remains  on  Scottish  ground  without  my 
finding  him.     Call  back  the  people,  Ratcliffe." 

Ratcliffe  hollooed  to  the  dispersed  officers,  who  wil- 
lingly obeyed  tlie  sig;nal ;  for  probably  there  was  no  indi- 
vidual among  them  who  would  have  been  much  desirous 
of  a  rencontre  hand  to  hand,  and  at  a  distance  from  his 
comrades,  with  such  an  active  and  desperate  fellow  as 
Robertson. 

19       VOL,    I. 


218  TALES    or    MY    LANDLORD. 

"  And  where  are  the  two  women  9"  said  Sharpitlaw. 
"  Both  made  their  heels  serve  them,  I  suspect,"  repli- 
ed Ratcliffe,  and  he  hummed  the  end  of  the  old  song — 

''  Then  hey  play  up  the  rin-awa'  bride, 
For  she  has  ta'en  tlie  gee." 

"  One  woman,"  said  Sharpitlaw,— for,  Tike  all  rogues, 
he  was  a  great  calumniator  of  the  fair  sex, — "  is  enough 
to  dirk  the  fairest  ploy  that  ever  was  planned  ;  and  how 
could  I  be  such  an  ass  as  to  expect  to  carry  through  a  job 
that  had  two  in  it  9  But  we  know  how  to  come  by  them 
both,  if  they  are  wanted,  that's  one  good  thing." 

Accordingly,  like  a  defeated  general,  sad  and  sulky,  he 
led  back  his  discomfited  forces  to  the  metropolis,  and  dis- 
missed them  for  the  night. 

The  next  morning  early  he  was  under  the  necessity  of 
making  his  report  to  the  sitting  magistrate  of  the  day. 
The  gentleman  who  occupied  the  chair  of  office  on  this 
occasion  (for  the  baillies,  Anglice  aldermen,  take  it  by 
rotation)  chanced  to  be  the  same  by  whom  Butler  was 
committed,  a  person  very  generally  respected  among  his 
fellow-citizens.  Sosnething  he  was  of  a  humourist,  and 
rather  deficient  in  general  education  ;  but  acute,  patient, 
and  upright,  possessed  of  a  fortune  acquired  by  honest 
industry,  which  made  him  perfectly  independent ;  and,  in 
short,  very  happily  qualified  to  support  the  respectability 
of  the  office  which  he  held. 

Mr.  Middleburgh  had  just  taken  his  seat,  and  was  de- 
bating in  an  animated  manner,  with  one  of  his  colleagues, 
the  doubtful  chances  of  a  game  at  golf  which  they  had 
played  the  day  before,  when  a  letter  was  delivered  to  him, 
addressed  "  For  Baillie  Middleburgh  ;  These  :  to  be  for- 
warded with  speed."     It  contained  these  words  : — 

"  Sir, 
"  I  know  you  to  be  a  sensible  and  a  considerate  magis- 
trate, and  one  who,  as  such,  will  be   content  to  worship 
God,  though  the  devil  bid  you.     I  therefore  expect  that, 
notwithstanding  the  signature  of  this  letter  acknowledges 


THE    HEART    OF   MIB-iOTHlAN.  219 

my  share  in  an  action,  which,  in  a  proper  time  and  place, 
I  would  not  fear  either  to  avow  or  to  justify,  you  will  not 
on  that  account  reject  what  evidence  I  place  before  you. 
The  clergyman,  Butler,  is  innocent  of  all  but  involuntary 
presence  at  an  action  which  he  wanted  spirit  to  approve 
of,  and  from  which  he  endeavoured,  with  his  best  set 
phrases,  to  dissuade  us.  But  it  was  not  for  him  that  it  is 
my  hint  to  speak.  There  is  a  woman  in  your  jail,  fallen 
under  the  edge  of  a  law  so  cruel,  that  it  has  hung  by  the 
wall,  hke  unscoured  armour,  for  twenty  years,  and  is  now 
brought  down  and  whetted  to  spill  the  blood  of  the  most 
beautiful  and  most  innocent  creature  whom  the  walls  of  a 
prison  ever  girdled  in.  Her  sister  knows  of  her  inno- 
cence, as  she  communicated  to  her  that  she  was  betrayed 
by  a  villain. — O  that  high  Heaven 

'  Would  put  in  every  honest  hand  a  whip, 
To  scourge  me  such  a  villain  through  the  world  !' 

**  I  write  distractedly — But  this  girl — this  Jeanie  Deans, 
is  a  peevish  puritan,  superstitious  and  scrupulous  after  the 
manner  of  her  sect  ;  and  I  pray  your  honour,  for  so  my 
phrase  must  go,  to  press  upon  her,  that  her  sister's  Hfe 
depends  upon  her  testimony.  But  though  she  should  re- 
main silent,  do  not  dare  to  think  that  the  young  woman  is 
guilty — far  less  to  permit  her  execution.  Remember  the 
death  of  Wilson  was  fearfully  avenged  ;  and  those  yet 
live  who  can  compel  you  to  drink  the  dregs  of  your  poi- 
soned chalice. — I  say,  remember  Porteous, — and  say  that 
you  had  good  counsel  from 

"  One  of  his  Slayers." 

The  magistrate  read  over  this  extraordinary  letter  twice 
or  thrice.  At  first  he  was  tempted  to  throw  it  aside  as 
the  production  of  a  madman,  so  little  did  "  the  scraps 
from  play-books,"  as  he  termed  the  poetical  quotation, 
resemble  the  correspondence  of  a  rational  being.  On  a 
re-perusal,  however,  he  thought  that,  amid  its  incoherence, 
he  could  discover  something  like  a  tone  of  awakened  pas- 
sion, though  expressed  in  a  manner  quaint  and  unusual. 


220  TALES    or    MY   LANDLORD. 

"  It  is  a  cruelly  severe  statute,"  said  the  magistrate  to 
his  assistaut,  "  and  I  wish  the  girl  could  be  taken  from  un- 
der the  letter  of  it.  A  child  may  have  been  born,  and  it 
may  have  been  conveyed  away  while  the  mother  was  in- 
sensible, or  it  may  have  perished  for  want  of  that  relief 
which  the  poor  creature  herself, — helpless,  terrified,  dis- 
tracted, despairing,  and  exhausted, — may  have  been  una- 
ble to  afford  it.  And  yet  it  is  certain,  if  the  w^oman  be 
found  guilty  under  the  statute,  execution  will  follow.  The 
crime  has  been  too  common,  and  examples  are  necessary." 

"  But  if  this  other  wench,"  said  the  city-clerk,  "  can 
speak  as  to  her  sister  communicating  her  situation,  it  will 
take  the  case  from  under  the  statute." 

"  Very  true  ;  and  I  will  walk  out  one  of  these  days  to 
Saint  Leonard's,  and  examine  the  girl  myself.  I  know 
something  of  their  father  Deans — an  old  true-blue  Cam- 
eronian,  who  would  see  house  and  family  go  to  wreck  ere 
he  would  disgrace  his  testimony  by  a  sinful  complying  with 
the  defections  of  the  times  ;  and  such  he  will  probably 
uphold  the  taking  an  oath  before  a  civil  magistrate.  If 
they  are  to  go  on  and  flourish  wi*  their  bull-headed  obsti- 
nacy, the  legislature  must  pass  an  act  to  take  their  affirma- 
tions, as  in  the  case  of  Quakers.  But  surely  neither  a 
father  nor  a  sister  will  scruple  in  a  case  of  this  kind.  As 
I  said  before,  I  will  go  speak  with  them  myself,  when  the 
hurry  of  this  Porteous  investigation  is  somewhat  over  ; 
their  pride  and  spirit  of  contradiction  will  be  far  less 
alarmed,  than  if  they  were  called  into  a  court  of  justice 
at  once." 

"  And  I  suppose  Butler  is  to  remain  incarcerated  9" 
said  the  city-clerk. 

"  For  the  present,  certainly,"  said  the  magistrate. 
*'  But  I  hope  soon  to  set  him  at  hberty  upon  bail." 

*•  Do  you  rest  upon  the  testimony  of  that  light-headed 
letter  V^  said  the  clerk. 

"  Not  very  much,"  answered  the  baillie  ;  "  and  yet 
there  is  something  striking  about  it  too — it  seems  the  let- 
ter of  a  man  beside  himself,  either  from  great  agitation. 
or  great  sense  of  guih." 


THE   HEATlT   OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  221 

"  Yes,"  said  the  town-clerk,  "  it  is  very  like  the  letter 
of  a  mad  strolling  play-actor,  who  deserves  to  be  hanged 
with  all  the  rest  of  his  gang,  as  your  honour  justly  ob- 
serves." 

'*  I  was  not  quite  so  blood-thirsty,"  continued  the  mag- 
istrate. "  But  to  the  point.  Butler's  private  character 
is  excellent  ;  and  I  am  given  to  understand,  by  some  in- 
quiries I  have  been  making  this  morning,  that  he  did  ac- 
tually arrive  in  town  only  the  day  before  yesterday,  so  that 
it  was  impossible  he  could  have  been  concerned  in  any 
previous  machinations  of  these-  unhappy  rioters,  and  it  is 
not  likely  that  he  should  have  joined  them  on  a  suddenty." 

"  There's  no  saying  anent  that — zeal  catches  fire  at  a 
slight  spark  as  fast  as  a  brunstain  match,"  observed  the 
secretary.  "  1  hae  kenn'd  a  minister  wad  be  fair  gude 
day  and  fair  gude  e'en  wi'  ilka  man  in  the  parochine,  and 
hing  just  as  quiet  as  a  rocket  on  a  stick,  till  ye  mentioned 
the  word  abjuration-oath,  or  patronage,  or  sic  like,  and 
then,  whiz,  he  was  off,  and  up  in  the  air  a  hundred  miles 
beyond  common  manners,  common  sense,  and  common 
comprehension." 

"  1  do  not  comprehend,"  answered  the  burgher-mag- 
istrate, "  that  the  young  man  Butler's  zeal  is  of  so  inflam- 
mable a  character.  But  I  will  make  further  investiga- 
tion.— What  other  business  is  there  before  us  9" 

And  they  proceeded  to  minute  investigations  concerning 
"the  affair  of  Porteous's  death,  and  other  matters  through 
which  this  history  has  no  occasion  to  trace  them. 

In  the  course  of  their  business  they  were  interrupted  by 
an  old  woman  of  the  lower  rank,  who  thrust  herself  into 
the  council-room.  "  What  do  you  want,  gude  wife  9 — 
Who  are  you  9" 

"  What  do  I  want !"  she  replied,  in  a  sulky  tone — "  I 
want  my  bairn,  or  I  want  naething  frae  nane  o'  ye,  for  as 
grand's  ye  are."  And  she  went  on  muttering  to  herself, 
with  the  wayward  spitefulness  of  age — "  They  maun  hae 
lordships  and  honours,  nae  doubt — set  them  up,  the  gut- 
ter-bloods !  and  de'il  a  gentleman  amang  them." — Then 

19*       VOL.    I. 


222  TALES    OF    MY   LANDLORD. 

again  addressing  the  sitting  magistrate,  "  Will  your  honour 
gi'e  me  back  my  puir  crazy  bairn  9 — His  honour  ! — I 
hae  kenn'd  the  day  when  less  wad  ser'd  him,  the  oe  of  a 
Campvere  skipper." 

"  Good  woman,"  said  the  magistrate  to  this  shrewish 
supplicant, — "  tell  us  what  it  is  you  want,  and  do  not  in- 
terrupt the  court." 

*'  That's  as  muckle  as  till  say,  Bark,  Bawtie,  and  be 
dune  wi't  ! — I  tell  ye,"  raising  her  termagant  voice,  "  I 
want  my  bairn  !  is  na  that  braid  Scots  V 

"  Who  are  you  9 — who  is  your  bairn  9"  demanded  the 
magistrate. 

"  Wha  am  I  9 — wha  suld  I  be,  but  Meg  Murdockson  : 
and  wha  suld  my  bairn  be,  but  Magdalen  Murdockson  '? — 
Your  guard  soldiers,  and  your  constables,  and  your  offi- 
cers, ken  us  weel  aneugh  when  they  rive  the  bitso'  duds 
air  our  backs,  and  take  what  penny  o'  siller  we  hae,  and 
harle  us  to  the  Correction-house  in  Leith  Wynd,  and  pet- 
tie  us  up  w4'  bread  and  water,  and  sic  hke  sunkets." 

"  Who  is  she  V^  said  the  magistrate,  looking  round  to 
some  of  his  people. 

"  Other  than  a  good  ane,  sir,"  said  one  of  the  city -offi- 
cers, shrugging  his  shoulders  and  smihng. 

"  Will  ye  say  sae  V^  said  the  termagant,  her  eye  gleam- 
ing with  impotent  fury  ;  "  an  I  had  ye  amang  the  Frigate- 
Whins,  wadna  I  set  my  ten  talents  in  your  wuzzent  face 
for  that  very  word  7"  and  she  suited  the  word  to  the  ac- 
tion, by  spreading  out  a  set  of  claws  resembhng  those  of 
Saint  George's  dragon  on  a  country  sign-post. 

**  What  does  she  want  here  9"  said  the  impatient  mag- 
istrate— "  Can  she  not  tell  her  business,  or  go  away  9" 

"  It's  my  bairn  ! — it's  Magdalen  Murdockson  I'm  want- 
in,"  answered  the  beldarne,  screaming  at  the  highest  pitch 
of  her  cracked  and  mistuned  voice — "  havena  I  been  tell- 
ing ye  sae  this  half  hour  9  and  if  ye  are  deaf,  what  deevil 
needs  ye  sit  cockit  up  there,  and  keep  folk  scraughin'  t'ye 
this  gate  9" 

"  She  wants  her  daughter,  sir,"  said  the  same  officer 
whose  interference  had  given  the  hag  such  offence  before 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  223 

— "  her  daughter,  who  was  taken  up  last  night — Madge 
Wildfire,  as  they  ca'  her." 

''  Madge  Hellfire,  as  they  ca'  her  !"  echoed  the  bel- 
dame ;  "  and  what  business  has  a  blackguard  like  you  to 
ca'  an  honest  woman's  bairn  out  o'  her  ain  name  ?" 

"  An  honest  woman's  bairn,  Maggie  !"  answered  the 
peace-officer,  smiling  and  shaking  his  head  with  an  ironi- 
cal emphasis  on  the  adjective,  and  a  calmness  calcu- 
lated to  provoke  to  madness  the  furious  old  shrew. 

"  If  I  am  no  honest  now,  I  was  honest  anes,"  she  re- 
plied ;  "  and  that's  mair  llian  ye  can  say,  ye  born  and 
bred  thief,  that  never  kenn'd  ither  folk's  gear  frae  your 
ain  since  the  day  ye  was  clecket.  Honest,  say  ye  9 — ye 
pykit  your  mother's  pouch  o'  twalpennies  Scotch  when 
ye  were  five  years  auld,  just  as  she  was  taking  leave  o' 
your  father  at  the  fit  o'  the  gallows." 

"  She  has  you  there,  George,"  said  the  assistants,  and 
there  was  a  general  laugh  ;  for  the  wit  was  fitted  for  the 
meridian  of  the  place  in  which  it  was  uttered.  The  gen- 
eral applause  somewhat  gratified  the  passions  of  the  old 
hag  ;  '*  the  grim  feature"  smiled,  and  even  laughed — but 
it  was  a  laugh  of  bitter  scorn.  She  condescended,  how- 
ever, as  if  appeased  by  the  success  of  her  sally,  to  explain 
her  business  more  distinctly,  when  the  magistrate,  com- 
manding silence,  again  desired  her  either  to  speak  out  her 
errand,  or  to  leave  the  place. 

"  Her  bairn,"  she  said,  "  was  her  bairn,  and  she  came 
to  fetch  her  out  of  ill  haft  and  waur  guiding.  If  she 
wasna  sae  wise  as  ither  folks,  few  ither  folks  had  suffered 
as  muckle  as  she  had  done  ;  forbye  that  she  could  fend 
the  waur  for  hersell  within  the  four  wa's  of  a  jail.  She 
could  prove  by  fifty  witnesses,  and  fifty  to  that,  that  her 
daughter  had  never  seen  Jock  Porteous,  ahve  or  dead, 
since  he  had  gi'en  her  a  loundering  wi'  his  cane,  the  neger 
that  he  was,  for  driving  a  dead  cat  at  the  provost's  wig 
on  the  Elector  of  Hanover's  birth-day." 

Notwithstanding  the  wretched  appearance  and  violent 
demeanour  of  this  woman,  the  magistrate  felt  the  justice 
of  her  argument,  that  her  child  might  be  as  dear  to  her 


224  TALES    OF   MY    LANDLORD. 

as  to  a  more  fortunate  and  more  amiable  mother.  He 
proceeded  to  investigate  the  circumstances  which  had  led 
to  Madge  Murdockson's  (or  Wildfire's)  arrest,  and  as  it 
was  clearly  shown  that  she  had  not  been  engaged  in  the 
riot,  he  contented  himself  with  directing  that  an  eye 
should  be  kept  upon  her  by  the  police,  but  that  for  the 
present  she  should  be  allowed  to  return  home  with  her 
mother.  During  the  interval  of  fetching  Madge  from  the 
jail,  the  magistrate  endeavoured  to  discover  whether  her 
mother  had  been  privy  to  the  change  of  dress  betwixt 
that  young  woman  and  Robertson,  But  on  this  point  he 
could  obtain  no  light.  She  persisted  in  declaring,  that 
she  had  never  seen  Robertson  since  his  remarkable  escape 
during  service-time  ;  and  that,  if  her  daughter  had  chang- 
ed clothes  with  him,  it  must  have  been  during  her  absence 
at  a  hamlet  about  two  miles  out  of  town,  called  Dudding- 
stone,  where  she  could  prove  that  she  passed  that  event- 
ful night.  And,  in  fact,  one  of  the  town-officers,  who 
had  been  searching  for  stolen  linen  at  the  cottage  of  a 
washerwoman  in  that  village,  gave  his  evidence,  that  he 
had  seen  Maggie  Murdockson  there,  whose  presence  had 
considerably  increased  his  suspicion  of  the  house  in  which 
she  was  a  visiter,  in  respect  that  he  considered  her  as  a 
person  of  no  good  reputation. 

'*  I  tauld  ye  sae,"  said  the  hag  ;  "  see  now  what  it  is  to 
hae  a  character,  gude  or  bad  ! — Now,  maybe,  after  a',  I 
could  tell  ye  something  about  Porteous  that  you  council- 
chamber  bodies  never  could  find  out,  for  as  muckle  stir 
as  ye  mak." 

All  eyes  were  turned  towards  her — all  ears  were  alert. 
"  Speak  out,"  said  the  magistrate. 

"  It  will  be  for  your  ain  gude,"  insinuated  the  town- 
clerk.  "  Dinna  keep  the  baillie  w^aiting,"  urged  "the 
assistants. 

She  remained  doggedly  silent  for  two  or  three  minutes, 
casting  around  a  malignant  and  sulky  glance,  that  seemed 
to  enjoy  the  anxious  suspense  with  which  they  waited  her 
answer.  And  then  she  broke  forth  at  once, — "  A'  that 
I  ken  about  him  is,  that  he  was  neither  soldier  nor  gen- 


THE    HEART    OF    MID'iOTHIAN.  225 

tleman,  but  just  a  thief  and  a  blackguard,  like  maist  o' 
yoursells,  dears — What  will  ye  gie  me  for  that  news  now  ^ 
— He  wad  hae  served  the  gude  town  lang  or  provost  or 
baillie  wad  hae  fund  that  out,  my  joe  !" 

While  these  matters  were  in  discussion,  Madge  Wild- 
fire entered,  and  her  first  exclamation  was,  "  Eh  !  see  if 
there  isna  our  auld  ne'er-do-weel  deevil's  buckie  o'  a 
raither — Hegh,  sirs  !  but  we  are  a  hopefu'  family,  to  be 
twa  o'  us  in  the  Guard  at  ance — But  there  were  better 
days  wi'  us  ance — were  there  na,  mither  9" 

Old  Maggie's  eyes  had  glistened  with  something  like 
an  expression  of  pleasure  when  she  saw  her  daughter  set 
at  hberty.  But  either  her  natural  affection,  like  that  of 
the  tigress,  could  not  be  displayed  without  a  strain  of  fe- 
rocity, or  there  was  something  in  the  ideas  which  Madge's 
speech  awakened,  that  again  stirred  her  cross  .and  savage 
temper.  "  What  signifies  what  we  were,  ye  street-raking 
limmer  !"  she  exclaimed,  pushing  her  daughter  before 
her  to  the  door,  with  no  gentle  degree  of  violence.  "  I'se 
tell  thee  what  thou  is  now — thou's  a  crazed  hellicat  Bess 
o'  Bedlam,  that  sail  taste  naething  but  bread  and  water 
for  a  fortnight,  to  serve  ye  for  the  plague  ye  hae  gien 
me,  and  ower  gude  for  ye,  ye  idle  taupie." 

Madge,  however,  escaped  from  her  mother  at  the 
door,  ran  back  to  the  foot  of  the  table,  dropped  a  very 
low"  and  fantastic  curtsey  to  the  judge,  and  said,  with  a 
giggling  laugh,  "  Our  minnie's  sair  mis-set,  after  her  or- 
dinary, sir — She'll  hae  had  some  quarrel  wi'  her  auld 
gudeman — that's  Satan,  ye  ken,  sirs."  This  explanatory 
note  she  gave  in  a  low  confidential  tone,  and  the  specta- 
tors of  that  credulous  generation  did  not  hear  it  without 
an  involuntary  shudder.  "  The  gudeman  and  her  disna 
aye  gree  weel,  and  then  I  maun  pay  the  piper  ;  but  my 
back's  broad  aneugh  to  bear't  a' — an'  if  she  hae  nae  hav- 
ings, that's  nae  reason  why  wiser  folk  shouldna  hae  some.'* 
Here  another  deep  curtsey.  The  ungracious  voice  of 
her  mother  was  heard. 

"  Madge,  ye  limmer  !  If  I  come  to  fetch  ye  !" 


ii^b  TALES   OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

"  Hear  till  her,"  said  Madge.  "  But  I'll  wun  out  a 
glifFthe  night  for  a'  that,  to  dance  in  the  moonlight,  when 
her  and  the  gudeman  will  be  whirring  through  the  blue 
lift  on  a  broomshank,  to  see  Jean  Jap,  that  they  hae  put- 
ten  intill  the  Kirkcaldy  tolbooth — ay,  they  will  hae  a 
merry  sail  ower  Inchkeith,  and  ovver  a'  the  bits  o'  bonny 
waves  that  are  popphng  and  plashing  against  the  rocks  in 
the  gowden  glimmer  o'  the  moon,  ye  ken. — I'm  coming, 
mother — I'm  coming,"  she  concluded,  on  hearing  a  scuffle 
at  the  door  betwixt  the  beldame  and  the  officers,  who 
were  endeavouring  to  prevent  her  re-entrance.  Madge 
then  waved  her  hand  wildly  towards  the  ceiling,  and 
sung,  at  the  topmost  pitch  of  her  voice, — 

"  Up  in  the  air. 

On  my  bonny  grey  marc, 

And  I  see,  and  I  see,  and  I  see  her  yet." 

And  with  a  hop,  skip,  and  jump,  sprung  out  of  the  room, 
as  the  witches  of  Macbeth  used,  in  less  refined  days,  to 
seem  to  fiy  upwards  from  the  stage. 

Some  weeks  intervened  before  Mr.  Middleburgh, 
agreeably  to  his  benevolent  resolution,  found  an  opportu- 
nity of  taking  a  walk  towards  Saint  Leonard's,  in  order 
to  discover  whether  it  might  be  possible  to  obtain  the 
evidence  hinted  at  in  the  anonymous  letter  respecting 
Effie  Deans. 

In  fact,  the  anxious  perquisitions  made  to  discover  the 
murderers  of  Porteous  occupied  the  attention  of  all  con- 
cerned with  the  administration  of  justice. 

In  the  course  of  these  inquiries,  two  circumstances 
happened  material  to  our  story.  Butler,  after  a  close  in- 
vestigation of  his  conduct,  was  declared  innocent  of  ac- 
cession to  the  death  of  Porteous  ;  but,  as  having  been 
present  during  the  whole  transaction,  was  obliged  to  find 
bail  not  to  quit  his  usual  residence  at  Libberton,  that  he 
might  appear  as  a  witness  when  called  upon.  The  other 
incident  regarded  the  disappearance  of  Madge  Wildfire 
and  her  mother  from  Edinburgh.  When  they  were 
sought,  with  the  purpose   of  subjecting   them  to   some 


THE    HEART    OE    MID-LOTIIIAX .  227 

further  interrogatories,  it  was  discovered  by  Mr.  Sharpit- 
law  that  they  had  eluded  the  observation  of  the  police, 
and  left  the  city  as  soon  as  dismissed  from  the  council- 
chamber.  No  efforts  could  trace  the  place  of  their 
retreat. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  excessive  indignation  of  the 
Council  of  Regency,  at  the  slight  put  upon  their  author- 
ity by  the  murder  of  Porteous,  had  dictated  measures,  in 
which  their  own  extreme  desire  of  detecting  the  actors 
in  that  conspiracy  was  consulted,  in  preference  to  the 
temper  of  the  people,  and  the  character  of  their  church- 
men. An  act  of  parliament  was  hastily  passed,  offering 
two  hundred  pounds  reward  to  those  who  should  inform 
against  any  person  concerned  in  the  deed,  and  the  pen- 
alty of  death,  by  a  very  unusual  and  severe  enactment, 
was  denounced  against  those  who  should  harbour  the 
guilty.  But  what  was  chiefly  accounted  exceptionable, 
was  a  clause  appointing  the  act  to  be  read  in  churches  by 
the  officiating  clergyman,  upon  the  first  Sunday  of  every 
month,  for  a  certain  period,  immediately  before  the  ser- 
mon. The  ministers  who  should  refuse  to  comply  with 
this  injunction  were  declared,  for  the  first  offence,  inca- 
pable of  sitting  or  voting  in  any  church  judicature,  and 
for  the  second,  incapable  of  holding  any  ecclesiastical 
preferment  in  Scodand. 

This  last  order  united  in  a  common  cause  those  who 
might  privately  rejoice  in  Porteous's  death,  though  they 
dared  not  vindicate  the  manner  of  it,  with  the  more  scru- 
pulous presbyterians,  who  held,  that  even  pronouncing  the 
name  of  tiie  "  Lord's  Spiritual"  in  a  Scottish  pulpit  was, 
quodammodo  an  acknowledgment  of  prelacy,  and  that  the 
injimction  of  the  legislature  was  an  interference  of  the 
civil  government  with  ibe  jus  divinum  of  presbytery, 
since  to  the  General  Assembly  alone,  as  representing  the 
invisible  head  of  the  Kirk,  belonged  the  sole  and  exclu- 
sive right  of  regulating  whatever  appertained  to  public 
worship.  Very  many  also  of  different  political  or  religious 
sentiments,  and  therefore  not  much  moved  by  these  con- 
siderations, thought  they  saw,  in  so  violent  an  act  of  par- 


228  TALES    OF   MY    LANDLORD. 

liament,  a  more  vindictive  spirit  than  became  the  legisla- 
ture of  a  great  country,  and  something  like  an  attempt  to 
trample  upon  the  rights  and  independence  of  Scotland. 
The  various  steps  adopted  for  punishing  the  city  of  Ed- 
inburgh, by  taking  away  her  charter  and  Hberties,  for 
what  a  violent  and  over-mastering  mob  had  done  within 
her  walls,  were  resented  by  many,  who  thought  a  pretext 
was  too  hastily  taken  for  degrading  the  ancient  metropo- 
lis of  Scotland.  In  short,  there  was  much  heart-burning, 
discontent,  and  disaffection,  occasioned  by  these  ill-con- 
sidered measures. 

Amidst  these  heats  and  dissensions,  the  trial  of  Effie 
Deans,  after  many  weeks  confinement,  was  at  length 
about  to  be  brought  forward,  and  Mr.  Middleburgh  found 
leisure  to  inquire  into  the  evidence  concerning  her.  For 
this  pu]pose  he  chose  a  fine  day  for  his  walk  towards  her 
fatiier's  house. 

The  excursion  into  the  country  was  somewhat  distant, 
in  the  opinion  of  a  burgess  of  those  days,  although  many 
of  the  present  inhabit  suburban  villas  considerably  be- 
yond the  spot  to  which  we  allude.  Three  quarters  of  an 
hour's  walk,  however,  even  at  a  pace  of  magisterial  gravi- 
ty, conducted  our  benevolent  office-bearer  to  the  Crags  of 
St.  Leonard's,  and  the  humble  mansion  of  David  Deans. 

The  old  man  was  seated  on  the  deas,  or  turf-seat,  at 
the  end  of  his  cottage,  busied  in  mending  his  cart-harness 
with  his  own  hands ;  for  in  those  days  any  sort  of  labour 
which  required  a  little  more  skill  than  usual,  fell  to  the 
share  of  the  goodman  himself,  and  that  even  when  he  was 
well  to  pass  in  the  world.  With  stern  and  austere  grav- 
ity he  persevered  in  his  task,  after  having  just  raised  his 
eyes  to  notice  the  advance  of  the  stranger.  It  would 
have  been  impossible  to  have  discovered,  from  his  coun- 
tenance and  manner,  the  internal  feelings  of  agony  with 
which  he  contended.  Mr.  Middleburgh  waited  an  in- 
stant, expecting  Deans  would  in  some  measure  acknow- 
ledge his  presence,  and  lead  irilo  conversation  ;  but,  as 
he  seemed  determined  to  remain  silent,  he  w^as  himself 
obliged  to  speak  first. 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  229 

"  My  name  is  Middleburgh — Mr.  James  Middleburgh, 
one  of  the  present  magistrates  of  the  city  of  Edinburgh." 

"  It  may  be  sae,"  answered  Deans  laconically,  and 
without  interrupting  his  labour. 

"  You  must  understand,"  he  continued,  "  that  the 
duty  of  a  magistrate  is  sometimes  an  unpleasant  one." 

"  It  may  be  sae,"  replied  David  ;  '*  1  hae  naething  to 
say  in  the  contrair  ;"  and  he  was  again  doggedly  silent. 

"  You  must  be  aware,"  pursued  the  magistrate, 
'•  that  persons  in  my  situation  are  often  obliged  to  make 
painful  and  disagreeable  inquiries  at  individuals,  merely 
because  it  is  their  bounden  duty." 

"  It  may  be  sae,"  again  replied  Deans  ;  "  I  hae  nae- 
thing to  say  anent  it,  either  the  tae  way  or  the  t'other. 
But  I  do  ken  there  was  ance  in  a  day  a  just  and  God- 
fearing magistracy  in  yon  town  o'  Edinburgh,  that  did  not 
bear  the  sword  in  vain,  but  were  a  terror  to  evil  doers, 
and  a  praise  to  such  as  kept  the  path.  In  the  glorious 
days  of  auld  worthy,  faithfu'  Provost  Dick,  when  there 
was  a  true  and  faithfu'  General  Assembly  of  the  Kirk, 
walking  hand  in  hand  with  the  real  noble  Scottish-hearted 
barons,  and  with  the  magistrates  of  this  and  other  towns, 
gentles,  burgesses,  and  commons  of  all  ranks,  seeing  with 
one  eye,  hearing  with  one  ear,  and  upholding  the  ark  with 
their  united  strength — And  then  folk  might  see  men  de- 
liver up  their  silver  to  the  state's  use,  as  if  it  had  been  as 
muckle  sclate  stanes.  My  father  saw  them  toom  the 
sacks  of  dollars  out  o'  Provost  Dick's  window  intill  the 
carts  that  carried  them  to  the  army  at  Dunselaw  ;  and  if 
ye  winna  believe  his  testimony,  there  is  the  window  itseli 
still  standing  in  the  Luckenbooths — I  think  it's  a  claith- 
merchant's  booth  the  day — ^at  the  airn  stanchells,  five 
doors  abune  Gossford's  Close — But  now  we  haena  sic 
spirit  amang  us  ;  we  think  mair  about  the  warst  wally- 
draigle  in  our  ain  byre,  than  about  the  blessing  which  the 
angel  of  the  covenant  gave  to  the  Patriarch  even  at  Peniel 
and  Mahanaim,  or  the  binding  obligation  of  our  national 
vows  ;  and  we  wad  rather  gi'e  a  pund  Scots  to  buy  an 
20     VOL.  I. 


230  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

unguent  to  clear  our  auld  rannel-trees  and  our  beds  o'  the 
English  bugs,  as  they  ca'  them,  than  we  wad  gi'e  a  plack 
to  rid  the  land  of  the  swarm  of  Arminian  caterpillars, 
Socinian  pismires,  and  deistical  Miss  Katies,  that  have 
ascended  out  of  the  bottomless  pit,  to  plague  this  per- 
verse, insidious,  and  lukewarm  generation." 

It  happened  to  David  Deans  on  this  occasion  as  it  has 
done  to  many  other  habitual  orators  ;  when  once  he  be- 
came embarked  on  his  favourite  subject,  the  stream  of 
his  own  enthusiasm  carried  him  forward  in  spile  of  his 
mental  distress,  while  his  well-exercised  memory  suppli- 
ed him  amply  v.ith  all  the  types  and  tropes  of  rhetoric 
peculiar  to  his  sect  and  cause. 

Mr.  Middleburgh  contented  himself  with  answering — 
"  All  this  may  be  very  true,  my  friend  ;  but,  as  you  said 
just  now,  I  have  nothing  to  say  to  it  at  present,  euher  one 
way  or  other. — You  have  two  daughters,  I  think,  Mr. 
Deans  9" 

The  old  man  winced,  as  one  whose  smarting  sore  is 
suddenly  galled,  but  instantly  composed  himself,  resumed 
the  work  which,  in  the  heat  of  his  declamation,  he  had 
laid  down,  and  answered  widi  sullen  resolution,  "  Ae 
daughter,  sir — only  ff«e." 

"  I  understand  you,"  said  Mr.  Middleburgh  ;  "  you 
have  only  one  daughter  here  at  home  with  you — but  this 
unfortunate  girl  v\ho  is  a  prisoner — she  is,  I  think,  your 
youngest  daughter*?" 

The  presbyterian  sternly  raised  his  eyes.  "  After  the 
world,  and  according  to  the  fiesh,  she  is  my  daughter  ; 
but  when  she  became  a  child  of  Belial,  and  a  compaiiy- 
keeper,  and  a  trader  in  guilt  aad  iniquity,  she  ceased  to 
be  a  bairn  of  mine." 

"  Alas  !  Mr.  Deans,"  said  Middleburgh,  sitting  down 
by  him,  and  endeavouring  to  take  his  hand,  which  the 
old  man  proudly  withdrew,  "  we  are  ourselves  all  sin- 
ners ;  and  the  errors  of  our  offspring,  as  they  ought  not 
to  surprise  us,  being  the  portion  which  they  derive  of  a 
common   portion  of  corruption  inherited  through  us,  so 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-tOTHIAN.  2iii 

they  do  not  entitle  us  to  cast  them  off  because  they  have 
lost  themselves." 

"  Sir,"  said  Deans,  impatiently,  ''  I  ken  a'  that  as 
weel  as — I  mean  to  say,"  he  resumed,  checking  the  irri- 
tation he  felt  at  being  schoolM — a  discipline  of  the  mind, 
which  those  most  ready  to  bestow  it  on  others,  do  them- 
selves most  reluctantly  submit  to  receive — "  I  mean  to 
say,  that  what  ye  observe  may  be  just  and  reasonable — 
But  I  bae  nae  freedom  to  enter  into  my  ain  private  affairs 
wi'  strangers — And  now,  in  this  great  national  emergen- 
cy, when  there's  the  Porteous'  Act  has  come  doun  frae 
London,  that  is  a  deeper  blow  to  this  poor  sinfu'  kingdom 
and  suffering  kirk,  than  ony  that  has  been  heard  of  since 
the  foul  and  fatal  Test — at  a  time  like  this" 

"  But,  goodman,"  interrupted  Mr.  Middleburgh, 
"  you  must  think  of  your  own  household  first,  or  else 
you  are  worse  even  than  the  infidels." 

"  I  tell  you,  Baillie  Middleburgh,"  retorted  David 
Deans,  "  if  ye  be  a  baillie,  as  there  is  little  honour  in 
being  ane  in  these  evil  days — I  tell  ye,  I  heard  the  gra- 
cious Saunders  Peden — I  wotna  whan  it  was  ;  but  it  was 
in  killing  time,  when  the  plowers  were  drawing  alang  their 
furrows  on  the  back  of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland — I  heard 
him  tell  his  hearers,  gude  and  waled  Christians  they  were 
too,  that  some  o'  them  wad  greet  mair  for  a  bit  drowned 
calf  or  stirk,  than  for  a'  the  defections  and  oppressions  of 
the  day  ;  and  that  there  were  some  o'  them  thinking  o'  ae 
thing,  some  o'  anither,  and  there  was  Lady  Hundleslope 
thinking  o'  greeting  Jock  at  the  fire-side  !  And  the  lady 
confessed,  in  my  hearing,  that  a  drow  of  anxiety  had 
come  ower  her  for  her  son,  that  she  had  left  at  hame  weak 
of  a  decay — And  what  w^ad  he  hae  said  of  me,  if  I  had 
ceased  to  think  of  the  gude  cause  for  a  cast-a-way — a — 
it  kills  me  to  think  of  what  she  is — " 

"  But  the  life  of  your  child,  goodman — think  of  that, 
if  her  life  could  be  saved,"  said  Middleburgh. 

"  Her  life  !"  exclaimed  David — "  I  v^^adna  gie  ane  o' 
my  grey  hairs  for  her  life,  if  her  gude  name  be  gane — 
And  yet,"  said  he,  relenting  and  retracting  as  he  spoke. 


232  TALES    OF   MY    LAIfDtORD. 

'*  1  would  make  the  niffer,  Mr.  Middleburgh — I  wad  gie 
a'  these  grey  hairs  that  she  has  brought  to  shame  and  sor- 
row— I  w^ad  gie  the  auld  head  they  grow  on  for  her  hfe, 
and  that  she  might  hae  time  to  amend  and  return,  for 
what  hae  the  wicked  beyond  the  breath  of  their  nostrils 
— But  I'll  never  see  her  mair. — No  ! — that — that  I  am 
determined  in — I'll  never  see  her  mair."  His  lips  con- 
tinued to  move  for  a  minute  after  his  voice  ceased  to  be 
heard,  as  if  he  were  repeating  the  same  vow  internally. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Middleburgh,  "  I  speak  to  you 
as  a  man  of  sense  ;  if  you  would  save  your  daughter's 
life,  you  must  use  human  means." 

"  I  understand  what  you  mean  ;  but  Mr.  Novit,  who  is 
the  procurator  and  doer  of  an  honourable  person,  the 
Laird  of  Dumbiedikes,  is  to  do  what  carnal  wisdom  can 
do  for  her  in  the  circumstances.  T  mysell  am  not  clear 
to  trinket  and  traffic  wi'  courts  o'  justice,  as  they  are 
now  constituted  ;  I  have  a  tenderness  and  scruple  in  my 
mind  anent  them." 

"  That  is  to  say,"  said  Middleburgh,  "  that  you  are  a 
Cameronian,  and  do  not  acknowledge  the  authority  of 
our  courts  of  judicature  or  present  government  9" 

"  Sir,  under  your  favour,"  rephed  David,  who  was 
too  proud  of  his  own  polemical  knowledge,  to  call  him- 
self the  follower  of  any  one,  "  ye  tak  me  up  before  1  fall 
down.  I  canna  see  why  I  suld  be  termed  a  Cameronian, 
especially  now  that  ye  hae  given  the  name  of  that  famous 
and  savoury  sufferer,  not  only  until  a  regimental  band  of 
soldiers,  whereof  I  am  told  many  can  now  curse,  swear, 
and  use  profane  language,  as  fast  as  ever  Richard  Cameron 
could  preach  or  pray  ;  but  also  because  ye  have,  in  as 
far  as  it  is  in  your  power,  rendered  that  martyr's  name 
vain  and  contemptible,  by  pipes,  drums,  and  fifes,  playing 
the  vain  carnal  spring,  called  the  Cameronian  Rant, 
which  too  many  professors  of  religion  dance  to — a  prac- 
tice maist  unbecoming  a  professor,  to  dance  to  any  tune 
whatsoever,  more  especially  promiscuously,  that  is,  with 
{he  female  sex.     A  brutish  fashion  it  is,  whilk  is  the  be- 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-I.OTHIAy.  2o3 

ginning  of  defection  vritli  many,  as  I  may  hae  as  niuckle 
cause  as  maist  folk  to  testify." 

"  Well,  but,  Mr.  Deans,"  replied  Mr.  Middleburgh, 
'•  1  only  meant  to  say  that  you  were  a  Cameronian  or 
Mac^Jilianite,  one  of  the  society  people,  in  short,  who 
think  it  inconsistent  to  take  oaths  under  a  government 
where  the  Covenant  is  not  ratified." 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  controversialist,  who  forgot  even 
his  present  distress  in  such  discussions  as  these,  "  you 
cannot  fickle  me  sae  easily  as  you  do  opine.  I  am  not 
a  Mac^Millauite,  or  a  Russelite,  or  a  Hamilionian,  or  a 
Ilarleyite,  or  a  Howdenite — 1  will  be  led  by  the  nose  by 
none — and  take  my  name  as  a  Christian  from  no  vessel 
of  clay.  I  have  my  own  principles  and  practice  to  an- 
swer for,  and  am  an  humble  pleader  for  the  gude  auld 
cause  in  a  legal  way." 

'•  That  is  to  say,  ?»fr.  Deans,"  said  Middleburgh, 
''  that  you  are  a  Deaniie.  and  have  opinions  peculiar  to 
yourself." 

••'  It  may  please  you  to  say  sae,"  said  David  Deans  ; 
"  but  1  have  maintained  my  testimony  before  as  great 
folks,  and  in  sharper  limes  ;  and  though  1  will  neither  ex- 
alt myself  nor  pull  down  others,  1  wish  every  man  and 
woman  in  this  land  had  kept  the  true  teslimony,  and  the 
middle  and  straight  path,  as  it  were,  on  the  ridge  of  a 
hill,  where  wind  ant^  water  shears,  avoiding  right-hand 
snares  and  extremes,  and  left-hand  way  slidings,  as  weel 
as  Johnny  Dodds  of  Farthing's  Acre,  and  ae  man  mair, 
that  shall  be  nameless." 

'•'  I  suppose,"  replied  tlie  magistrate,  "  that  is  as  much 
as  to  say,  that  Johnny  Dodds  of  Farthing's  Acre,  and 
David  Deans  of  St.  Leonard's,  constitute  the  only  mem- 
bers of  the  true,  real,  unsophisticated  kirk  of  Scotland  9" 

*'  God  forbid  that  I  suld  make  sic  a  vain-glorious 
speech,  when  there,  are  sae  mony  professing  Christians," 
answered  David  ;  "  but  this  I  maun  say,  that  all  men  act 
according  to  their  gifts  and  their  srace.  sae  that  it  is  nae 

marvel  that" 

20-     VOL.  I. 


234  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORIJi. 

"  This  is  all  very  fine,"  interrupted  Mr.  Middleburgh  ; 
"  but  I  have  no  time  to  spend  in  hearing  it.  The  matter 
in  hand  is  this — I  have  directed  a  citation  to  be  lodged  in 
your  daughter's  hands — If  she  appears  on  the  day  of 
trial,  and  gives  evidence,  there  is  reason  to  hope  she  may 
save  her  sister's  life — if,  from  any  constrained  scruples 
about  the  legality  of  her  performing  the  office  of  an  af- 
fectionate sister  and  a  good  subject,  by  appearing  in  a 
court  held  under  the  authority  of  the  law  and  govern- 
ment, you  become  the  means  of  deterring  her  from  the 
discharge  of  this  duty,  I  must  say,  though  the  truth  may 
sound  harsh  in  your  ears,  that  you,  who  gave  life  to  this 
unhappy  girl,  will  become  the  means  of  her  losing  it  by 
a  premature  and  violent  death." 

So  saying,  ^Ir.  Middleburgh  turned  to  leave  him. 

"  Bide  awee — bide  awee,  Mr.  Middleburgh,"  said 
Deans,  in  great  perplexity  and  distress  of  mind  ;  but  the 
baillie,  who  was  probably  sensible  that  protracted  discus- 
sion might  diminish  the  effect  of  his  best  and  most  forci- 
ble argument,  took  a  hasty  leave,  and  dechned  entering 
farther  into  the  controversy. 

Deans  sunk  down  upon  his  seat,  stunned  with  a  varie- 
ty of  conflicting  emotions.  It  had  been  a  great  source  of 
controversy  among  those  holding  his  opinions  in  religious 
matters,  how  far  the  government  which  succeeded  the 
revolution  could  be,  without  sin,  acknowledged  by  true 
presbyterians,  seeing  that  it  did  not  recognize  the  great 
iialional  testimony  of  the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant. 
And  latterly,  those  agreeing  in  this  general  doctrine,  and 
assuming  the  sounding  title  of  the  anti-popish,  anti-pre- 
latic,  anti-erastian,  anti-sectarian,  true  presbyterian  rem- 
nant, were  divided  into  many  petty  sects  among  them- 
selves, even  as  to  the  extent  of  submission  to  the  existing 
laws  and  rulers,  which  constituted  such  an  acknowledg- 
ment as  amounted  to  sin. 

At  a  very  stormy  and  tumultuous  meeting,  held  in  16S2, 
to  discuss  these  important  and  delicate  points,  the  testi- 
monies of  the  faithful  few  were  found  utterly  inconsistent 
with  each  other.     The  place  where  this  conference  took 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-lOTHlAN.  235 

place  was  remarkably  well  adapted  for  such  an  assembly. 
It  was  a  wild  and  very  sequestered  dell  in  Tweeddale, 
surrounded  by  iwgh  hills,  and  far  remote  from  human 
habitation.  A  small  river,  or  rather  a  mountain  torrent, 
called  the  Talla,  breaks  down  the  glen  with  great  fury, 
dashing  successively  over  a  number  of  small  cascades, 
which  has  procured  the  spot  the  name  of  Talla-Linns. 
Here  the  leaders  among  the  scattered  adherents  to  the 
covenant,  men  who,  in  their  banishment  from  human  so- 
ciety, and  in  the  recollection  of  the  severities  to  which 
they  had  been  exposed,  had  become  at  once  sullen  in 
their  tempers,  and  fantastic  in  their  religious  opinions,  met 
with  arms  in  their  hands,  and  by  the  side  of  the  torrent 
discussed,  with  a  turbulence  which  the  noise  of  the  stream 
could  not  drown,  points  of  controversy  as  empty  and  un- 
substantial as  its  foam. 

It  was  the  fixed  judgment  of  most  of  the  meeting,  that 
all  payment  of  cess  or  tribute  to  the  existing  government 
was  utterly  unlawful,  and  a  sacrificing  to  idols.  About 
other  impositions  and  degrees  of  submission  there  were 
various  opinions  ;  and  perhaps  it  is  the  best  illustra- 
tion of  the  spirit  of  these  military  fathers  of  the  church 
to  say,  that  while  all  allowed  it  was  impious  to  pay  the 
cess  employed  for  maintaining  the  standing  army  and 
militia,  there  was  a  fierce  controversy  on  the  lawfulness 
of  paying  the  duties  levied  at  ports  and  bridges,  for  main- 
taining roads  and  other  necessary  purposes  ;  that  there 
were  some  who,  repugnant  to  these  imposts  for  turnpikes 
and  postages,  were  nevertheless  free  in  conscience  to 
make  payment  of  the  usual  freight  at  public  ferries,  and 
that  a  person  of  exceeding  and  punctilious  zeal,  James 
Russel,  one  of  the  slayers  of  the  Archbishop  of  St. 
Andrews,  had  given  his  testimony  with  great  warmth 
even  against  this  last  faint  shade  of  subjection  to  consti- 
tuted authority.  This  ardent  and  enlightened  person  and 
his  followers  had  also  great  scruples  about  the  lawfulness 
of  bestowing  the  ordinary  names  upon  the  days  of  the 
week  and  the  months  of  the  year,  which  savoured  in  their 
nostrils  so  strongly  of  paganism,  that  at  length  they  ar- 


236  TALES    OF   MY   LANDLORD. 

rived  at  the  conclusion,  that  they  who  owned  such  names 
as  Monday,  Tuesday,  January,  February,  and  so  forth, 
"  served  themselves  heirs  to  the  same,  if  not  greater 
punishment,  than  had  been  denounced  against  the  idola- 
ters of  old." 

David  Deans  had  been  present  on  this  memorable  oc- 
casion, although  too  young  to  be  a  speaker  among  the 
polemical  combatants.  His  brain,  however,  had  been 
thoroughly  heated  by  the  noise,  clamour,  and  metaphysi- 
cal ingenuity  of  the  discussion,  and  it  was  a  controversy 
to  which  his  mind  had  often  returned  ;  and  though  he 
carefully  disguised  his  vacillation  from  others,  and  per- 
haps from  himself,  he  had  never  been  able  to  come  to 
any  precise  line  of  decision  on  the  subject.  In  fact,  his 
natural  sense  had  acted  as  a  counterpoise  to  his  contro- 
versial zeal.  He  was  by  no  means  pleased  with  the  quiet 
and  indiiferent  manner  in  which  King  William's  govern- 
ment slurred  over  the  errors  of  the  times,  when,  far  from 
restoring  the  presbyterian  kirk  to  its  former  supremacy, 
they  passed  an  act  of  oblivion  even  to  those  who  had 
been  its  persecutors,  and  bestowed  on  many  of  them 
titles,  favours,  and  employments.  When,  in  the  first 
General  Assembly  which  succeeded  the  Revolution,  an 
overture  was  made  for  the  revival  of  the  League  and 
Covenant,  it  was  with  horror  that  Douce  David  heard  the 
proposal  eluded  by  the  men  of  carnal  wit  and  policy,  as 
he  called  them,  as  being  inapplicable  to  the  present  times, 
and  not  falling  under  the  modern  model  of  the  church. 
The  reign  of  Queen  Anne  had  increased  his  conviction, 
that  the  Revolution  government  was  not  one  of  the  true 
presbyterian  complexion.  But  then,  more  sensible  than 
the  bigots  of  his  sect,  he  did  not  confound  the  modera- 
tion and  tolerance  of  these  two  reigns  with  the  active 
tyranny  and  oppression  exercised  in  those  of  Charles  II. 
and  James  II.  The  presbyterian  form  of  religion,  though 
deprived  of  the  weight  formerly  attached  to  its  sentences 
of  excommunication,  and  compelled  to  tolerate  the  co- 
existence of  episcopacy,  and  of  sects  of  various  descrip- 
tions, was  still  the   National  Church  ;    and  though  the 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-IOT^IAN.  237 

glory  of  the  second  temple  was  far  inferior  to  that  which 
had  flourished  from  1639  till  the  battle  of  Dunbar,  still  it 
was  a  structure  that,  wanting  the  strength  and  the  terrors, 
retained  at  least  the  form  and  symmetry,  of  the  original 
model.  Then  came  the  insurrection  of  1715,  and  David 
Deans's  horror  for  the  revival  of  the  popish  and  prelatical 
faction  reconciled  him  greatly  to  the  government  of  King 
George,  although  he  grieved  that  the  monarch  might  be 
suspected  of  a  leaning  unto  Erastianism.  In  short,  mov- 
ed by  so  many  different  considerations,  he  had  shifted  his 
ground  at  different  times  concerning  the  degree  of  freedom 
which  he  felt  in  adopting  any  act  of  immediate  acknow- 
ledgment or  submission  to  the  present  government,  which, 
however  mild  and  paternal,  was  still  uncovenanted  ;  and 
now  he  felt  himself  called  upon  by  the  most  powerful 
motive  conceivable,  to  authorize  his  daughter's  giving 
testimony  in  a  court  of  justice,  which  all  who  have  been 
since  called  Cameronians,  accounted  a  step  of  lamenta- 
ble and  direct  defection.  The  voice  of  nature,  however, 
exclaimed  loud  in  his  bosom  against  the  dictates  of  fa- 
naticism ;  and  his  imagination,  fertile  in  the  solution  of 
polemical  difficulties,  devised  an  expedient  for  extricating 
himself  from  the  fearful  dilemma,  in  which  he  saw,  on 
the  one  side,  a  falhng  off  from  principle,  and,  on  the 
other,  a  scene  from  which  a  father's  thoughts  could  not 
but  turn  in  shuddering  horror. 

"  1  have  been  constant  and  unchanged  in  my  testimo- 
ny," said  David  Deans  ;  "  but  then  who  has  said  it  of 
me,  that  I  have  judged  my  neighbour  over  closely,  be- 
cause he  hath  had  more  freedom  in  his  walk  than  I  have 
found  in  mine  9  I  never  was  a  separatist,  nor  for  quar- 
relling with  tender  souls  about  mint,  cummin,  or  other  the 
lesser  tithes.  IMy  daughter  Jean  may  have  a  hght  in  this 
subject  that  is  hid  frae  my  auld  een — it  is  laid  on  her 
conscience  and  not  on  mine — If  she  hath  freedom  to  gang 
before  this  judicatory,  and  hold  up  her  hand  for  this  poor 
cast-away,  surely  I  will  not  say  she  steppeth  over  her 
bounds  ;  and  if  not" He  paused  in  his  mental  ar- 
gument, while  a  pang  of  unutterable  anguish  convulsed 


238  TALES    OF   MY   X.ANDLORU. 

his  features,  yet,  shaking  it  off,  he  firmly  resumed  the 
strain  of  his  reasoning — "  And  if  not — God  forbid  that 
she  should  go  into  defection  at  bidding  of  mine  !  1  vvunna 
fret  the  tender  conscience  of  one  bairn — no,  not  to  save 
the  hfe  of  the  other." 

A  Roman  would  have  devoted  his  daughter  to  death 
from  different  feelings  and  motives,  but  not  upon  a  more 
heroic  principle  of  duty. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

To  man,  in  this  his  trial  state, 

The  privilege  is  given, 
When  tost  by  tides  of  human  fate, 

To  anchor  fast  on  heaven. 

Watts's  Hymns. 

It  was  with  a  firm  step  that  Deans  sought  his  daugh- 
ter's apartment,  determined  to  leave  her  to  the  light  of 
her  own  conscience  in  the  dubious  point  of  casuistry  in 
which  he  supposed  her  to  be  placed. 

The  little  room  had  been  the  sleeping  apartment  of 
both  sisters,  and  there  still  stood  there  a  small  occasional 
bed  which  had  been  made  for  Effie's  accommodation, 
when,  complaining  of  illness,  she  had  declined  to  share, 
as  in  happier  times,  her  sister's  pillow.  The  eyes  of 
Deans  rested  involimtarily,  on  entering  the  room,  upon 
this  little  couch,  wilh  its  dark-green  coarse  curtains,  and 
the  ideas  connected  with  it  rose  so  thick  upon  his  soul  as 
almost  to  incapacitate  him  from  opening  his  errand  to  his 
daughter.  Her  occupation  broke  the  ice.  He  found  her 
gazing  on  a  slip  of  paper,  which  contained  a  citation  to 
her  to  appear  as  a  witness  upon  her  sister's  trial  in  behalf 
of  the  accused.  For  the  worthy  magistrate,  determined 
to  omit  no  chance  of  doing  Effie  justice,  and  to  leave 
her  sister  no  apology  for  not  giving  the  evidence  which 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-]LOTHIAxV.  2'S^ 

she  was  supposed  to  possess,  had  caused  the  ordinary  ci- 
tation, or  subpcena,  of  the  Scottish  criminal  court,  to  be 
served  upon  her  by  an  officer  during  his  conference  with 
David. 

This  precaution  was  so  far  favourable  lo  Deans,  that  it 
saved  him  the  pain  of  entering  upon  a  formal  explanation 
with  his  daughter  ;  he  only  said,  \^ith  a  hollow  and  trem- 
ulous voice,   "  1  perceive  ye  are  aware  of  the  matter." 

"  O  father,  we  are  cruelly  sted  between  God's  laws 
and  man's  laws — What  will  we  do  9 — What  will  we  do  V 

Jeanie,  it  must  be  observed,  had  no  scruple  whatever 
about  the  mere  act  of  appearing  in  a  court  of  justice. 
She  might  have  heard  the  point  discussed  by  her  father 
more  than  once  ;  but  we  have  already  noticed,  that  she 
was  accustomed  to  listen  with  reverence  to  much  which 
she  was  incapable  of  understanding,  and  tliat  subtle  argu- 
ments of  casuistry  found  her  a  patient,  but  unedified 
hearer.  Upon  receiving  the  citation,  therefore,  her 
thoughts  did  not  turn  upon  the  chimerical  scruples  which 
alarmed  her  father's  mind,  but  to  the  language  which  had 
been  held  to  her  by  the  stranger  at  Muschat's  Cairn.*  In 
a  word,  she  never  doubted  but  she  was  to  be  drogged 
forward  into  the  court  of  justice,  in  order  to  place  her  in 
the  cruel  position  of  either  sacrificing  her  sister  by  telling 
the  truth,  or  committing  perjury  in  order  to  save  her  life. 
And  so  strongly  did  her  thoughts  run  in  this  channel,  that 
she  applied  her  father's  words,  "  Ye  are  aware  of  the 
matter,"  to  his  acquaintance  with  the  advice  that  had 
been  so  fearfully  enforced  upon  her.  She  looked  up 
with  anxious  surprise,  not  unmingled  with  a  cast  of  hor- 
ror, which  his  next  words,  as  she  interpreted  and  applied 
them,  were  not  qualified  to  remove. 

"  Daughier,"  said  David,  ''  it  has  ever  been  my  mind, 
that  in  things  of  ane  doubtf'!  and  controversial  nature, 
ilk  Christian's  conscience  suld  be  his  ain  guide — V/here- 
fore  descend  into  yourself,  try  your  ain  mind  with  suffi- 
ciency of  soul  exercise  ;  and  as  you  sail  finally  find  your- 
self clear  to  do  in  this  matter,  even  so  be  it." 


240  TALES    OF    MY   LANDLORD. 

"  But,  father,"  said  Jeanie,  whose  mind  revoked  at 
the  construction  wliich  she  naturally  put  upon  this  lan- 
guage, "  can  this — this  be  a  doubtful  or  controversial 
matter  "7 — Mind,  father,  the  ninth  command — '  Thou 
shah  iiot  bear  false  witness  against  thy  neighbour.'  " 

David  Deans  paused  ;  for,  still  applying  her  speech  to 
his  preconceived  ditBculties,  it  seemed  to  him,  as  if  she, 
a  woman,  and-  a  sister,  was  scarce  entitled  to  be  scrupu- 
lous upon  this  occasion,  where  he,  a  man,  exercised  in 
the  testimonies  of  that  testifying  period,  had  given  indi- 
rect countenance  to  her  following  what  must  have  been 
the  natural  dictates  of  her  own  feelings.  But  he  kept 
firm  nis  purpose,  until  his  eyes  involuntarily  rested  upon 
the  liitle  settle-bed,  and  recalled  the  form  of  the  child  of 
his  old  age,  as  she  sat  upon  it,  pale,  emaciated,  and  brok- 
en-hearted. His  mind,  as  the  picture  arose  before  him, 
involuntarily  conceived,  and  liis  tongue  involuntarily  ut- 
tered— but  in  a  tone  how  different  from  his  usual  dogmat- 
ical precision,  arguments  for  the  course  of  conduct  hkely 
to  insure  his  child's  safety. 

^  Daughter,"  he  said,  "  I  did  not  say  that  your  path 
was  free  from  stumbhng — and,  questionless,  this  act  may 
be  in  the  opinion  of  some  a  transgression,  since  he  who 
beareth  witness  unlawfully,  and  against  his  conscience, 
dotl)  in  some  sort  bear  false  witness  against  his  neigh- 
bour. Yet,  in  matters  of  compliance,  the  guilt  lietb  not 
in  the  compliance  sae  muckle,  as  in  the  mind  and  con- 
science of  him  that  doth  comply  ;  and,  therefore,  al- 
though ray  testimony  hath  not  been  spared  upon  public 
defections,  I  haena  felt  freedom  to  separate  mysell  from 
the  communion  of  many  who  have  been  clear  to  hear 
those  ministers  who  have  taken  the  fatal  indiilgence,  be- 
cause they  might  get  -good  of  them,  though  I  could  not." 

When  David  had  proceeded  thus  far,  his  conscience 
reproved  him,  that  he  might  be  indirectly  undermining 
the  purity  of  his  daughter's  faith,  and  smoothing  the  way 
for  her  falhng  off  from  strictness  of  principle.  He, 
therefore,  suddenly  stopped,  and  changed  his  tone  : — 
''  Jeanie,  1   perceive   that  our  vile  affections — so  I  call 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  241 

them  in  respect  of  doing  the  will  of  our  Father, — cling 
too  heavily  to  me  in  this  hour  of  trying  sorrow,  to  permit 
me  to  keep  sight  of  my  ain  duty,  or  to  airt  you  to  yours. 
I  will  speak  uae  mair  anent  this  over-trying  matter. — 
Jeanie,  if  ye  can,  wi'  God  and  gude  conscience,  speak  in 
favour  of  this  puir  unhappy" — (here  his  voice  faltered)— 
"  she  is  your  sister  in  the  flesh — worthless  and  cast-away 
as  she  is,  she  is  the  daughter  of  a  saint  in  Heaven,  that 
was  a  mother  to  you,  Jeanie,  in  place  of  your  ain — but  if 
ye  arena  free  in  conscience  to  speak  for  her  in  the  court 
of  judicature — follow  your  conscience,  Jeanie,  and  let 
GoJ's  will  be  done."  After  this  adjuration  he  left  the 
apartment,  and  his  daughter  remained  in  a  state  of  great 
distress  and  perplexity. 

It  would  have  been  no  small  addition  to  the  sorrows  of 
David  Deans,  even  in  this  extremity  of  suffering,  had  he 
known  that  his  daughter  was  applying  the  casuistical  ar- 
guments which  he  had  been  using,  not  in  the  sense  of  a 
permission  to  follow  her  own  opinion  on  a  dubious  and  dis- 
puted point  of  controversy,  but  rather  as  an  encourage- 
ment to  transgress  one  of  those  divine  commandments 
which  Christians  of  all  sects  and  denominations  unite  in 
holding  most  sacred. 

"  Can  this  be  9"  said  Jeanie,  as  the  door  closed  on  her 
father — "  Can  this  be  his  words  that  1  have  heard,  or 
has  the  Enemy  taken  his  voice  and  features  to  give  weight 
unto  the  counsel  which  causeth  to  perish  ! — A  sister's  life, 
and  a  father  pointing  out  how  to  save  it ! — O  God  deliv- 
er me  ! — this  is  a  fearfu'  temptation." 

Roaming  from  thought  to  thought,  she  at  one  time  im- 
agined her  father  understood  the  ninth  commandment  ht- 
erally,  as  prohibiting  false  witness  against  our  neighbour, 
without  extending  the  denunciation  against  falsehood  ut- 
tered in  favour  of  the  criminal.  But  her  clear  and  un- 
sophisticated power  of  discriminating  between  good, and 
evil,  instantly  rejected  an  interpretation  so  limited,  and  so 
unworthy  of  the  Author  of  the  law.  She  remained  in  a 
state  of  the  most  agitating  terror  and  uncertainty — afraid 

21        VOL,    I. 


-^42  TALES    OF   MY    LANDLORD. 

to  communicate  her  thoughts  freely  to  her  father,  lest  she 
should  draw  forth  an  opinion  with  which  she  could  not 
comply, — wrung  with  distress  on  her  sister's  account,  ren- 
dered the  more  acute  by  reflecting  that  the  means  of  sav- 
ing her  were  in  her  power,  but  were  such  as  her  con- 
science prohibited  her  from  using, — tossed,  in  short,  like 
a  vessel  in  an  open  roadstead  during  a  storm,  and,  like 
that  vessel,  resting  on  one  only  sure  cable  and  anchor, — 
faith  in  Providence,  and  a  resolution  to  discharge  her  duty. 

Butler's  affection  and  strons;  sense  of  reh2;ion  would 
have  been  her  principal  support  in  these  distressing  cir- 
cumstances, but  he  was  still  under  restraint,  which  did  not 
permit  him  to  come  to  Saint  Leonard's  Crags  ;  and  her 
distresses  were  of  a  nature,  which,  with  her  indifferent 
habits  of  scholarship,  she  found  it  impossible  to  express 
in  w-jiting.  She  was  therefore  compelled  to  trust  for 
guidance  to  her  own  unassisted  sense  of  what  was  right 
o:  wrong. 

It  was  not  the  least  of  her  distresses,  that,  although 
she  hoped  and  believed  her  sister  to  be  innocent,  she  had 
not  the  means  of  receiving  that  assurance  from  her  own 
mouth. 

The  double-dealing  of  RatclifFe  in  the  matter  of  Rob- 
ertson had  not  prevented  his  being  rewarded,  as  double- 
dealers  frequently  have  been,  with  favour  and  preferment. 
Sharpitlaw,  who  found  in  him  something  of  a  kindred 
genius,  had  been  intercessor  in  his  behalf  with  the  mag- 
istrates, and  the  circumstance  of  his  having  voluntarily 
remained  in  the  prison,  when  the  doors  were  forced  by 
the  mob,  would  have  made  it  a  hard  measure  to  take  the 
life  which  he  had  such  e'asy  means  of  saving.  He  re- 
ceived a  full  pardon  ;  and  soon  afterwards,  James  Rat- 
cliffe,  the  greate-st  thief  and  housebreaker  in  Scotland, 
was,  upon  the  faith,  perhaps,  of  an  ancient  proverb,  se- 
lected as  a  person  to  be  intrusted  with  the  custody  of 
other  delinquents. 

When  Rutcliffe  was  thus  placed  in  a  confidential  situa- 
tion, he  was  repeatedly  applied  to  by  the  sapient  Saddle- 
tree and  others,  who  took  some  interest   in  the  Deans' 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-IOTHIAN.  24S 

family,  to  procure  an  interview  between  the  sisters ;  but 
the  magistrates,  who  were  extremely  anxious  for  the  ap- 
prehension of  Robertson,  had  given  strict  order  to  the 
contrary,  hoping  that,  by  keeping  them  separate,  they 
might,  from  the  one  or  the  other,  extract  some  information 
respecting  that  fugitive.  On  this  subject  Jeanie  had  noth- 
ing to  tell  them  :  She  informed  Mr.  Middleburgh,  that 
she  knew  nothing  of  Robertson,  except  having  met  him 
that  night  by  appointment  to  give  her  some  advice  re- 
specting her  sister's  concern,  the  purport  of  v/hich,  she 
said,  was  betwixt  God  and  her  conscience.  Of  his  mo- 
lions,  purposes,  or  plans,  past,  present,  or  future,  she 
know  nothing,  and  so  had  nothing  to  communicate. 

Effie  was  equally  silent,  though  from  a  different  cause. 
It  was  in  vain  that  they  offered  a  commutation  and  alle- 
viation of  her  punishment,  and  even  a  free  pardon,  if  she 
would  confess  what  she  knew  of  her  lover. 

She  answered  only  with  tears  ;  unless,  when  driven 
into  pettish  sulkiness  by  the  persecution  of  the  interroga- 
tors,'she  made  them  abrupt  and  disrespectful  answers. 

At  length,  after  her  trial  had  been  delayed  for  many 
weeks,  in  hopes  she  might  be  induced  to  speak  out  on  a 
subject  infinitely  more  interesting  to  the  magistracy  than 
her  own  guilt  and  innocence,  their  patience  was  worn  out, 
and,  even  Mr.  Middleburgh  finding  no  ear  lent  to  further 
intercession  in  her  behalf,  the  day  was  fixed  for  the  trial 
to  proceed. 

It  was  now,  and  not  sooner,  that  Sharpitlaw,  recollect- 
ing his  promise  to  Eftie  Deans,  or  rather  being  dinned 
into  compliance  by  the  unceasing  remonstrances  of  Mrs. 
Saddletree,  who  was  his  next-door  neighbour,  and  who 
declared  it  was  heathen  cruelty  to  keep  the  twa  broken- 
hearted creatures  separate,  issued  the  important  mandate, 
permitting  them  to  see  each  other. 

On  the  evening  which  preceded  the  eventful  day  of 
trial,  Jeanie  was  permitted  to  see  her  sister — an  awful  in- 
terview, and  occurring  at  a  most  distressing  crisis.  This, 
however,  formed  a  part  of  the  bitter  cup  which  she  was 
doomed  to  drink,  to  atone  for  crimes  and  follies  to  which 


244  TALES    OF   MT   LANDLORD. 

she  had  no  accession ;  and  at  twelve  o'clock  noon,  being 
the  time  appointed  for  admission  to  the  jail,  she  went  to 
meet,  for  the  first  time  for  several  months,  her  guilty, 
erring,  and  most  miserable  sister,  in  that  abode  of  guilt, 
error,  and  utter  misery. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


-Sweet  sister,  let  me  live 


What  sin  you  do  to  save  a  brother's  life, 
Nature  dispenses  with  the  deed  so  far, 
That  it  becomes  a  virtue. 

Measure  for  Meastare. 

Jeanie  Deans  was  admitted  into  the  jail  by  RatclifFe. 
This  fellow,  as  void  of  shame  as  of  honesty,  as  he  open- 
ed the  now  trebly  secured  door,  asked  her,  with  a  leer 
which  made  her  shudder,  "  whether  she  remembered 
him  V 

A  half-pronounced  and  timid  "  No,"  was  her  answer. 

*'  What  !  not  remember  moonlight,  and  Muschat's 
Cairn,  and  Rob  and  Rat '?"  said  he,  with  the  same  sneer ; 
— "  Your  memory  needs  redding  up,  my  jo." 

If  Jeanie's  distresses  had  admitted  of  aggravation,  it 
must  have  been  to  find  her  sister  under  the  charge  of  such 
a  profligate  as  this  man.  He  was  not,  indeed,  without 
something  of  good  to  balance  so  much  that  was  evil  in 
his  character  and  habits.  In  his  misdemeanours  he  had 
never  been  blood-thirsty  or  cruel;  and  in  his  present  oc- 
cupation, be  had  shown  himself,  in  a  certain  degree,  ac- 
cessible to  touches  of  humanity.  But  these  good  qual- 
ities were  unknown  to  Jeanie,  who,  remembering  the  scene 
at  Muschat's  Cairn,  could  scarce  find  voice  to  acquaint 
him,  that  she  had  an  order  from  BailHe  Middleburgh,  per- 
mitting her  to  see  her  sister. 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  245 

"  I  ken  that  fu'  weel,  my  bonny  doo  ;  raair  by  token, 
I  have  a  special  charge  to  stay  in  the  ward  with  you  a' 
the  time  ye  are  thegilher." 

"  Must  that  be  sae  7"  asked  Jeanie,  with  an  imploring 
voice. 

*'  Hout,  ay,  hinny,"  rephed  the  turnkey  ;  "  and  what 
the  waur  will  you  and  your  litty  be  of  Jim  RatclifFe  hear- 
ing what  ye  hae  to  say  to  ilk  other  ? — De'il  a  word  ye'll 
say  that  will  gar  him  ken  your  kittle  sex  better  than  he 
kens  them  already  ;  and  another  thing  is,  that  if  ye  dinna 
speak  o'  breaking  the  Tolbooth,  de'il  a  word  will  i  tell 
ower,  either  to  do  ye  good  or  ill." 

Thus  saying,  Ratcliffe  marshalled  her  the  way  to  the 
apartment  where  Effie  was  confined. 

Shame,  fear,  and  grief,  had  contended  for  mastery  in 
the  poor  prisoner's  bosom  during  the  w-hole  morning,  while 
she  had  looked  forward  to  this  meeting  ;  but  when  the 
door  opened,  all  gave  way  to  a  confused  and  strange  feel- 
ing that  had  a  tinge  of  joy  in  it,  as,  throwing  herself  on 
her  sister's  neck,  she  ejaculated,  "  ^ly  dear  Jeanie  ! — my 
dear  Jeanie  !  it's  lang  since  1  hae  seen  ye."  Jeanie  re- 
turned the  embrace  with  an  earnestness  that  partook  al- 
most of  rapture,  but  it  was  only  a  flitting  emotion,  hke  a 
sun-beam  unexpectedly  penetrating  betwixt  the  clouds  of 
a  tempest,  and  obscured  almost  as  soon  as  visible.  The 
sisters  walked  together  to  the  side  of  the  pallet  bed,  and 
sat  dow^n  side  by  side,  took  hold  of  each  other's  hands, 
and  looked  each  other  in  the  face,  but  without  speaking  a 
word.  In  this  posture  they  continued  for  a  minute,  while 
the  gleam  of  joy  gradually  faded  from  their  features,  and 
gave  w'ay  to  the  most  intense  expression,  first  of  melan- 
choly, and  then  of  agony,  till,  throwing  themselves  again 
into  each  other's  arms,  they,  to  use  the  language  of  Scrip- 
ture, Hfted  up  their  voices  and  wept  bitterly. 

Even  the  hard-hearted  turnkey,  who  had  spent  his  life 
in  scenes  calculated  to  stifle  both  conscience  and  feehng, 
could  not  witness  this  scene  without  a  touch  of  human 
sympathy.     It  was  shown  in  a  trifling   action,  but  which 

21*       VOL.    I. 


246  TALES   OF   MY  LANDLORD- 

had  more  delicacy  in  it  than  seemed  to  belong  to  Rat- 
clifFe's  character  and  station.  The  unglazed  window  of 
the  miserable  chamber  was  open,  and  the  beams  of  a 
bright  sun  fell  right  upon  the  bed  where  the  sufferers  were 
seated.  With  a  gentleness  that  had  something  of  rever- 
ence in  it,  Ratcliffe  partly  closed  the  shutter,  and  seem- 
ed thus  to  throw  a  veil  over  a  scene  so  sorrowful. 

"  Ye  are  ill,  Effie,"  were  the  first  words  Jeanie  could 
utter,  "yeare  very  ill." 

*'  O  what  wad  I  gi'e  to  be  ten  times  waur,  Jeanie  !" 
was  the  reply — "  what  wad  I  gi'e  to  be  cauld  dead  afore 
the  ten  o'clock  bell  the  morn  !  And  our  father — but  I  am 
nae  his  bairn  langer  now — O  I  hae  nae  friend  left  in  the 
warld  ! — O  that  I  were  lying  dead  at  my  mother's  side, 
in  Newbattle  Kirk-yard  !" 

"  Hout,  lassie,"  said  Ratcliffe,  willing  to  show  the  in- 
terest which  he  absolutely  felt,  "  dinna  be  sae  dooms 
down-hearted  as  a'  that ;  there's  mony  a  tod  hunted  that's 
no  killed.  Advocate  Langtale  has  brought  folk  through 
waur  snappers  than  a'  this  ;  and  there's  no  a  cleverer 
agent  than  Nichil  Novit,  e'er  drew  a  bill  of  suspension. 
Hanged  or  unhanged,  they  are  weel  afF  has  sic  an  agent 
and  counsel  ;  ane's  sure  o'  fair  play.  Ye  are  a  bonny 
lass  too,  an  ye  wad  busk  up  your  cockernonie  a  bit;  and 
a  bonny  lass  will  find  favour  wi'  judge  and  jury,  when 
they  w^ould  strap  up  a  grewsome  carle  like  me  for  the  fif- 
teenth part  of  a  flea's  hide  and  tallow,  d — n  them." 

To  this  homely  strain  of  consolation  the  mourners  re- 
turned no  answer  ;  indeed  they  were  so  much  lost  in  their 
own  sorrows  as  to  have  become  insensible  of  RatclifFe's 
presence.  "  O  Effie,"  said  her  elder  sister,  "  how  could 
you  conceal  your  situation  from  me  !  O,  woman,  had  I 
deserved  this  at  your  hand  7 — had  ye  spoke  but  ae  word 
— sorry  we  might  hae  been,  and  shamed  we  might  hae 
been,  but  this  awfu'  dispensation  had  never  come  ower  us." 

"  And  what  gude  wad  that  hae  dune  *!?"  answered  the 
prisoner.  "  Na,  na,  Jeanie,  a'  was  ower,  when  ance  I 
forgot  what  I  promised  when  I  faulded  down  the  leaf  of 
my  Bible.     See,"  she  said,  producing  the  sacred  volume, 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  247 

"  the  book  opens  aye  at  the  place  o'  itsell.     O  see,  Jeanie, 
what  a  fearfu'  scripture  !" 

Jeanie  took  her  sister's  Bible,  and  found  that  the  fatal 
mark  was  made  at  this  impressive  text  in  the  book  of 
Job  :  "  He  hath  stripped  me  of  my  glory,  and  taken  the 
crown  from  my  head.  He  hath  destroyed  me  on  every 
side,  and  I  am  gone.  And  mine  hope  hath  he  removed 
like  a  tree." 

"  Isnathatower  true  a  doctrine  9"  said  the  prisoner — 
"  Isna  my  crown,  my  honour  removed  9  And  what  am  I 
but  a  poor  wasted  wan-thriven  tree,  dug  up  by  the  roots, 
and  flung  out  to  waste  in  the  highway,  that  man  and  beast 
may  tread  it  under  foot  9  I  thought  o'  the  bonny  bit  thorn 
that  our  father  rooted  out  o'  the  yard  last  May,  when  it 
had  a'  the  flush  o'  blossoms  on  it ;  and  then  it  lay  in  the 
court  till  the  beasts  had  trod  them  a'  pieces  wi'  their  feet. 
I  little  thought,  when  J  was  wae  for  the  bit  silly  green  bush 
and  its  flowers,  that  1  was  to  gang  the  same  gait  mysell." 

"  O,  if  ye  had  spoken  a  word,"  again  sobbed  Jeanie, 
— '*  if  I  were  free  to  swear  that  ye  had  said  but  ae  word 
of  how  it  stude  wi'  ye,  they  couldna  hae  touched  your 
hfe  this  day." 

"  Could  they  na  9"  said  Efiie,  with  something  like 
awakened  interest — for  life  is  dear  even  to  those  who  feel 
it  as  a  burthen — "  Wha  tauld  ye  that,  Jeanie  9" 

"  It  was  ane  that  kenned  what  he  was  saying  weel 
aneugh,"  replied  Jeanie,  who  had  a  natural  reluctance  at 
mentioning  even  the  name  of  her  sister's  seducer. 

"  Wha  was  it  9 — I  conjure  ye  lo  tell  me  !"  said  Effie, 
seating  herself  upright. — "  Wha  could  tak  interest  in  sic 
a  cast-by  as  I  am  now  9 — W^as  it — was  it  him  V 
•  "  Hout,"  said  RatciifFe,   "  what  signifies  keeping  the    , 
poor  lassie  in  a  swither  9 — I'se  uphaud  its  been  Robert-  >> 
son  that  learned  ye  that  doctrine  when  ye  saw  him  at  Mus- 
chat's  Cairn." 

"  Was  it  him  9"  said  Effie,  catching  eagerly  at  his 
words — "  was  it  him,  Jeanie,  indeed  9 — O,  I  see  it  was 
him — poor  lad,  and  I  was  thinking  his  heart  was  as  hard 


248  TALES    OF    MY   LANDLORD. 

as  the  nether  millstane — and  him  in  sic  danger  on  his  ain 
part — poor  George  !" 

Somewhat  indignant  at  this  burst  of  tender  feeling  to- 
wards the  author  of  her  misery,  Jeanie  could  not  help  ex- 
claiming,— "  O,  Effie,  how  can  you  speak  that  gate  of  sic 
a  man  as  that  *?" 

"  We  maun  forgi'e  our  enemies,  ye  ken,"  said  poor 
EfEe,  with  a  timid  look  and  a  subdued  voice,  for  her  con- 
science told  her  wdiat  a  different  character  the  feelings 
with  which  she  still  regarded  her  seducer  bore,  compared 
with  the  Christian  charity  under  which  she  attempted  to 
veil  it. 

"  And  ye  bae  suffered  a'  this  for  him,  and  ye  can  think 
of  loving  him  still  *?"  said  her  sister  in  a  voice  betwixt 
pity  and  blame. 

"  Love  him  !"  answered  Effie — "  if  I  had  na  loved  as 
woman  seldom  loves,  I  hadna  been  within  these  wa's  this 
day  ;  and  trow  ye,  that  love  sic  as  mine  is  hghtly  forgot- 
ten 9 — Na,  na — ye  may  hew^  down  the  tree,  but  ye  canna 
change  its  bend — And,  O,  Jeanie,  if  ye  wad  do  good  to 
me  at  this  moment,  tell  me  every  word  that  he  said,  and 
whether  he  was  sorry  for  poor  Effie  or  no." 

"  What  needs  I  tell  ye  onything  about  it,"  said  Jeanie. 
"  Ye  may  be  sure  he  had  ower  muckle  to  do  to  save  him- 
sell,  to  speak  laiig  or  muckle  about  ony  body  beside." 

'*  That's  no  true,  Jeanie,  though  a  saunt  had  said  it," 
replied  Effie,  with  a  spark  of  her  former  lively  and  ir- 
ritable temper.  "  But  ye  dinna  ken,  though  I  do,  how 
far  he  pat  his  life  in  venture  to  save  mine."  And  looking 
at  Ratcliffe,  she  checked  herself  and  was  silent. 

"  I  fancy,"  said  Ratcliffe,  with  one  of  his  famihar  sneers, 
"  the  lassie  thinks  that  naebody  has  een  but  hersell — 
Didna  I  see  when  Gentle  Geordie  was  seeking  to  get  other 
folk  out  of  the  Tolbooth  forbye  Jock  Porteous  *?  but  ye 
are  of  my  mind,  hinny — better  sit  and  rue,  than  flit  and 
rue — Ye  needna  look  in  my  face  sae  amazed.  I  ken  mair 
things  than  that,  maybe." 

"  O  my  God  !  my  God  !"  said  Effie,  springing  up  and 
throwing  herself  down  on  her  knees  before  him — "  D'ye 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-IOTHIAN.  249 

ken  where  they  hae  putten  my  bairn  9 — O,  my  bairn  ! 
my  bairn  !  the  poor  sackless  innocent  new-born  wee  ane 
— bone  of  my  bone,  and  flesh  of  my  flesh  ! — O,  man,  if 
ye  wad  e'er  deserve  a  portion  in  Heaven,  or  a  broken- 
hearted creature's  blessing  upon  earth,  tell  me  where  they 
hae  put  my  bairn — the  sign  of  my  shame,  and  the  partner 
of  my  suffering  !  tell  me  wha  has  ta'en't  away,  or  what 
they  hae  dune  wi't '?" 

"  Hout,  tout,"  said  the  turnkey,  endeavouring  to  extri- 
cate himself  from  the  firm  grasp  with  which  she  held  him, 
**  that's  taking  me  at  my  word  wi'  a  witaess — Bairn,  quo' 
she  9  How  the  de'il  suld  I  ken  onything  of  your  bairn, 
huzzy  9  Ye  maun  ask  that  auld  Meg  Murdockson,  if  ye 
dinna  ken  ower  muckle  about  it  yoursell." 

As  his  answer  destroyed  the  wild  and  vague  hope  which 
had  suddenly  gleamed  upon  her,  the  unhappy  prisoner 
let  go  her  hold  of  his  coat,  and  fell  with  her  face  on  the 
pavement  of  the  apartment  in  a  strong  convulsion  fit. 

Jeanie  Deans  possessed,  with  her  excellently  clear  un- 
derstanding, the  concomitant  advantage  of  promptitude  of 
spirit,  even  in  the  extremity  of  distress. 

She  did  not  suffer  herself  to  be  overcome  by  her  own 
feelings  of  exquisite  sorrow,  but  instantly  applied  herself 
to  her  sister's  rehef,  with  the  readiest  remedies  which  cir- 
cumstances afforded  ;  and  which,  to  do  Ratcliffe  justice, 
he  showed  himself  anxious  to  suggest,  and  alert  in  pro- 
curing. He  had  even  the  delicacy  to  withdraw  to  the 
farthest  corner  of  the  room,  so  as  to  render  his  official 
attendance  upon  them  as  httle  intrusive  as  possible,  when 
Effie  was  composed  enough  again  to  resume  her  confer- 
ence with  her  sister. 

The  prisoner  once  more,  in  the  most  earnest  and  bro- 
ken tones,  conjured  Jeanie  to  tell  her  the  particulars  of 
the  conference  with  Robertson,  and  Jeanie  felt  it  was  im- 
possible to  refuse  her  this  gratification. 

"  Do  ye  mind,"  she  said,  "  Effie,  when  ye  were  in  the 
fever  before  we  left  Woodend,  and  how  angry  your  mo- 
ther, that's  now  in  a  better  place,  was  at  me  for  gieing  ye 
milk  and  water  to  drink  because  ye  grat  for  it  9  Ye  were 


250  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

a  bairn  then,  and  ye  are  a  woman  now,  and  should  ken 
better  than  ask  what  canna  but  hurt  you — But  come  weal 
or  woe,  I  canna  refuse  ye  onything  that  ye  ask  me  wi'  the 
tear  in  your  ee." 

Again  Effie  threw  herself  into  her  arms,  and  kissed  her 
cheek  and  forehead,  murmuring,  "  O,  if  ye  kenn'd  how 
lang  it  is  since  1  heard  his  name  mentioned, — if  ye  but 
kenn'd  how  muckle  good  it  does  me  but  to  ken  onything 
o'  him,  that's  like  goodness  or  kindness,  ye  wadna  wonder 
that  1  wish  to  hear  o'  him." 

Jeanie  sigiiedji  and  commenced  her  narrative  of  all  that 
had  passed  betwixt  Robertson  and  her,  making  it  at  the 
first  as  brief  as  possible.  Efrie  listened  in  breathless  anx- 
iety, holding  her  sister's  hand  in  hers,  and  keeping  her 
eye  fixed  upon  her  face,  as  if  devouring  every  word 
she  uttered.  The  interjections  of  "  Poor  fellow," — 
*'  poor  George,"  which  escaped  in  whispers,  and  betwixt 
sighs,  were  the  only  sounds  with  which  slie  interrupted  the 
story.     When  it  was  finished  she  made  a  long  pause. 

"  And  this  was  his  advice  '?"  were  the  first  words  she 
uttered. 

"  Just  sic  as  I  hae  tell'd  ye,"  replied  her  sister. 

"  And  he  wanted  you  to  say  something  to  yon  folks, 
that  wad  save  my  young  Hfe  9" 

"  He  wanted,"  answered  Jeanie,  "  that  I  suld  be  man- 
sworn." 

"  And  you  tauld  him,"  said  Effie,  "  that  ye  wadna  hear 
o'  coming  between  me  and  the  death  that  I  am  to  die, 
and  me  no  aughteen  year  auld  yet  *?" 

''  I  tauld  him,"  replied  Jeanie,  who  now  trembled  at 
the  turn  which  her  sister's  reflections  seemed  about  to 
take,  "  that  I  dared ua  swear  to  an  untruth." 

"  And  what  d'ye  ca'  an  untruth  9"  said  Effie,  again 
showing  a  touch  of  her  former  spirit — "  Ye  are  muckle 
to  blame,  lass,  if  ye  think  a  mother  would,  or  could,  mur- 
der her  ain  bairn — Murder  9 — 1  wad  have  laid  down  my 
life  just  to  see  a  blink  o'  its  ee." 

"  I  do  believe,"  said  Jeanie,  "  that  ye  are  as  innocent 
of  sic  a  purpose  as  the  new-born  babe  itsell," 


THE    HEART   OF   MID-I.OTHIAN.  251 

"  I  am  glad  ye  do  me  that  justice,"  said  Effie,  haugh- 
tily ;  "  it's  whiles  the  faut  of  very  good  folk  like  you, 
Jeanie,  that  they  think  a'  the  rest  of  the  warld  are  as  bad 
as  the  warst  temptations  can  make  them." 

"  I  dinna  deserve  this  frae  ye,  Effie,"  said  her  sister, 
sobbing,  and  feeling  at  once  the  injustice  of  the  reproach, 
and  compassion  for  the  state  of  mind  which  dictated  it. 

"  Maybe  no,  sister,"  said  Effie.  "  But  ye  are  angry 
because  1  love  Robertson — How  can  I  help  loving  him, 
that  loves  me  better  than  body  and  sonl  baitb  9 — Here  he 
put  his  life  in  a  niffer,  to  break  the  prison  to  let  me  out  ; 
and  sure  am  I,  had  it  stood  \vi'  him  as  it  stands  wi'  you" 
— here  she  paused  and  was  silent. 

"  O,  if  it  stude  vvi'  me  to  save  you  wi'  risk  of  my  hfe  !" 
said  Jeanie. 

"  Ay,  lass,"  said  her  sister,  "  that's  lightly  said,  but  no 
sae  hghtly  credited,  frae  ane  that  winna  ware  a  word  for 
me  ;  and  if  it  be  a  wrang  word,  ye'll  hae  time  aneugh 
to  repent  o't." 

"  But  that  word  is  a  grievous  sin,  and  it's  a  deeper 
offence  when  it's  a  sin  wilfully  and  presumptuously  com- 
mitted." 

"  Weel,  weel,  Jeanie,"  said  Effie,  "  I  mind  a'  about  the 
sins  o'  presumption  in  the  questions — we'll  speak  nae  mair 
about  this  matter,  and  ye  may  save  your  breath  to  say 
your  carritch  ;  and  for  me,  I'll  soon  hae  nae  breath  to 
waste  on  ony  body." 

"  I  must  needs  say,'"  interposed  RatclifFe,  "  that  it's 
d — d  hard,  that  when  three  w^ords  of  your  mouth  would 
give  the  girl  the  chance  to  nick  Moll  Blood, ^  that  you 
mak  such  scrupling  about  rappingf  to  them.  D — n  me, 
if  they  would  take  me,  if  1  would  not  rap  to  all  What- 
d'yecallum's  fabbs  for  her  life — 1  am  used  to't,  b — t  me, 
for  less  matters.  Why,  1  have  smacked  calf-skin  J  fifty 
times  in  England  for  a  keg  of  brandy." 

"  Never  speak  mair  o't,"  said  the  prisoner.  "  It's  just 
as  weel  as  it  is — and  gude  day,  sister  ;  ye  keep  Mr.  Rat- 

*  The  Gallows.  +  Swearing^.  t  Kissed  the  book. 


252  TALES    OF   MY   LANDLORD. 

clifFe  wailing  on — Ye'll  come  back  and  see  me,  I  reckon, 
before" here  she  stopped,  and  became  deadly  pale. 

"  And  are  we  to  part  in  this  way,"  said  Jeanie,  "  and 
you  in  sic  deadly  peril  9  O  Effie,  look  -but  up,  and  say 
what  ye  wad  hae  me  do,  and  I  could  find  in  my  heart 
amaist  to  say  that  I  wad  do't." 

"  No,  Jeanie,"  replied  her  sister,  after  an  effort,  "  I 
am  better  minded  now.  At  my  best,  I  was  never  hriif 
sae  gude  as  ye  were,  and  what  for  suld  you  begin  to  mak 
yoursell  waur  to  save  me  now  that  I  am  na  worth  saving  9 
God  knows,  that,  in  my  bober  mind,  I  wadna  wuss  ony 
living  creature  to  do  a  wrang  thing  to  save  my  life.  I 
might  have  fled  frae  this  tolbooth  on  that  awfu'  nighl  wi' 
ane  wad  hae  carried  me  through  the  warld,  and  friended 
me,  and  fended  for  me.  But  1  said  to  them,  let  life  gang 
when  gude  fame  is  gane  before  it.  But  this  lang  impris- 
onment has  broken  my  spirit,  and  I  am  whiles  sair  left  to 
mysell,  and  then  I  wad  gi'e  the  Indian  mines.of  gold  and 
diamonds,  just  for  life  and  breath — for  I  think,  Jeanie,  I 
have  such  roving  fits  as  I  used  to  hae  in  the  fever  ;  but, 
instead  of  the  fiery  een,  and  wolves,  and  Widow  Butler's 
buli-seg,  that  I  used  to  see  spieling  up  on  my  bed,  I  am 
thinking  now  about  a  high  black  gibbet,  and  me  standing 
up,  and  such  seas  of  faces  all  looking  up  at  poor  Effie 
Deans,  and  asking  if  it  be  her  that  George  Robertson 
used  to  call  the  Lily  of  St.  Leonard's — And  then  they 
stretch  out  their  faces,  and  make  mouths,  and  girn  at  me, 
and  which  ever  way  I  look,  I  see  a  face  laughing  like  Meg 
Murdockson,  when  she  tauld  me  I  had  seen  the  last  of 
ray  wean.  God  preserve  us,  Jeanie,  that  carline  has  a 
fearsome  face  !"  She  clapped  her  hands  before  her  eyes 
as  she  uttered  this  exclamation,  as  if  to  secure  herself 
against  seeing  the  fearful  object  she  had  alluded  to. 

Jeanie  Deans  remained  with  her  sister  for  two  hours, 
during  which  she  endeavoured,  if  possible,  to  extract 
something  from  her  that  might  be  serviceable  in  her  ex- 
culpation. But  she  had  nothing  to  say  beyond  what  she 
had  declared  on  her  first  examination,  with  the  purport  of 
which  the  reader  will  be  made  acquainted  in  proper  time 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  253 

and  place.  "  They  wadna  believe  her,"  she  said,  "  and 
she  had  naething  mair  to  tell  them." 

At  length  Ratcliffe,  though  reluctantly,  informed  the 
sisters  that  there  was  a  necessity  that  they  should  part. 
"  Mr.  Novit,"  he  said,  "  was  to  seethe  prisoner,  and  may 
be  Mr.  Langtale  too. — Langtale  likes  to  look  at  a  bonny 
lass,  whether  in  prison  or  out  o'  prison." 

Fveluctantly,  therefore,  and  slowly,  after  many  a  tear, 
and  many  an  embrace,  Jeanie  retired  from  the  apartment, 
an:!  heard  its  jarring  bolts  turned  upon  the  dear  being 
from  whom  she  was  separated.  Somewhat  familiarized 
now  even  with  her  rude  conductor,  she  offered  him  a  small 
present  in  money,  with  a  request  he  would  do  what  he 
could  for  her  sister's  accommodation.  To  her  surprise 
he  declined  the  fee.  "  I  wasna  bloody  when  I  was  on 
the  pad,"  he  said,  "  and  I  winna  be  greedy — that  is,  be- 
yond what's  right  and  reasonable, — now  that  I  am  in  the 
lock. — Keep  the  siller  ;  and  for  civility,  your  sister  sail 
hae  sic  as  I  can  bestow  ;  but  1  hope  you'll  think  better 
on  it,  and  rap  an  oath  for  her — de'il  a  hair  ill  there  is  in 
it,  if  ye  are  rapping  again  the  crown.  I  kenn'd  a  worthy 
minister,  as  gude  a  man,  bating  the  deed  they  deposed 
him  for,  as  ever  ye  heard  claver  in  a  pulpit,  that  rapped 
to  a  hogshead  of  pigtail  tobacco,  just  for  as  muckle  as 
filled  his  spleuchan.  But  maybe  ye  are  keeping  your  ain 
counsel — weel,  weel,  there's  nae  harm  in  that. — As  for 
your  sister,  Fse  see  that  she  gets  her  meat  clean  and  warm, 
and  I'll  try  to  gar  her  lie  down  and  take  a  sleep  after 
dinner,  for  de'il  a  ee  she'll  close  the  night. — I  hae  gude 
experience  of  these  matters.  The  first  night  is  aye  the 
warst  o't.  I  hae  never  heard  o'  ane  that  sleepit  the  night 
afore  trial,  but  o'  mony  a  ane  that  sleepit  as  sound  as  a 
tap  the  night  before  their  necks  were  straughied.  And 
it's  nae  wonder — the  warst  may  be  tholed  when  it's 
kenn'd — Better  a  finger  aff  as  aye  wagging." 

22     VOL.  I. 


254  TALES    OF   MY   LANDLORD. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Yet  though  thou  may'st  be  dragg'd  in  scorn 

To  yonder  ignominious  tree, 
Thou  shalt  not  want  one  faitliful  friend, 

To  share  the  cruel  fate's  decree. 

Jermny  Dawson. 

After  spending  the  greater  part  of  the  morning  in  his 
devotions,  for  his  benevolent  neighbours  had  kindly  in- 
sisted upon  discharging  his  task  of  ordinary  labour,  David 
Deans  entered  the  apartment  when  the  breakfast  meal 
was  prepared.  His  eyes  were  involuntarily  cast  down, 
for  he  was  afraid  to  look  at  Jeanie,  uncertain  as  he  was 
whether  she  might  feel  herself  at  liberty,  with  a  good 
conscience,  to  attend  the  Court  of  Justiciary  that  day,  to 
give  the  evidence  which  he  understood  that  she  possess- 
ed, in  order  to  her  sister's  exculpation.  At  length,  after 
a  minute  of  apprehensive  hesitation,  he  looked  at  her 
dress,  to  discover  whether  it  seemed  to  be  in  her  con- 
templation to  go  abroad  that  morning.  Her  apparel  was 
neat  and  plain,  but  such  as  conveyed  no  exact  intimation 
of  her  intentions  to  go  abroad.  She  had  exchanged  her 
usual  garb  for  morning  labour,  for  one  something  inferior 
to  that  with  which,  as  her  best,  she  was  wont  to  dress 
herself  for  church,  or  any  more  rare  occasion  of  going 
into  society.  Her  sense  taught  her,  that  it  was  respectful 
to  be  decent  in  her  apparel  on  such  an  occasion,  while 
her  feelings  induced  her  to  lay  aside  the  use  of  the  very 
few  and  simple  personal  ornaments,  wliich,  on  other  oc- 
casions, she  permitted  herself  to  wear.  So  that  there 
occurred  nothing  in  her  external  appearance  which  could 
mark  out  to  her  father,  with  anything  like  certainty,  her 
intentions  on  this  occasion. 

The  preparations  for  their  humble  meal  were  that 
morning  made  in  vain.  The  father  and  daughter  sat, 
each  assuming  the  appearance  of  eating,  when  the  other's 


THE    HEART    OF    MlD-LOTHIAJf .  255 

eyes  were  turned  to  them,  and  desisting  from  the  effort 
with  disgust,  when  the  affectionate  imposture  seemed  no 
longer  necessary. 

At  length  these  moments  of  constraint  were  removed. 
The  sound  of  St.  Giles's  heavy  toll  announced  the  hour 
previous  to  the  commencement  of  the  trial ;  Jeanie  arose, 
and,  with  a  degree  of  composure  for  which  she  herself 
could  not  account,  assumed  her  plaid,  and  made  her  other 
preparations  for  a  distant  walk.  It  was  a  strange  con- 
trast between  the  firmness  of  her  demeanour,  and  the 
vacillation  and  cruel  uncertainty  of  purpose  indicated  in. 
all  her  father's  motions  ;  and  one  unacquainted  with  both 
could  scarcely  have  supposed  that  the  former  was,  in  her 
ordinary  habits  of  life,  a  docile,  quiet,  gentle,  and  even 
timid  country-maiden,  while  her  father,  with  a  mind  nat- 
urally proud  and  strong,  and  supported  by  religious  opin- 
ions, of  a  stern,  stoical,  and  unyielding  character,  had  in 
nis  time  undergone  and  withstood  the  most  severe  hard- 
ships, and  the  most  imminent  peril,  without  depression  of 
spirh,  or  subjugation  of  his  constancy.  The  secret  of 
this  difference  was,  that  Jeanie's  mind  had  already  antic- 
ipated the  line  of  conduct  which  she  must  adopt,  with  all 
its  natural  and  necessary  consequences  ;  while  her  father, 
ignorant  of  every  other  circumstance,  tormented  himself 
with  imagining  what  the  one  sister  might  say  or  swear,  or 
what  effect  her  testimony  might  have  upon  the  awful 
event  of  the  trial. 

He  watched  his  daughter,  with  a  faltering  and  indeci- 
sive look,  until  she  looked  back  upon  him,  with  a  loolj:  of 
unutterable  anguish,  as  she  was  about  to  leave  the  apart- 
ment. 

"  My  dear  lassie,"  said  he,  "  I  will" — His  action, 
hastily  and  confusedly  searching  for  his  worsted  mittans 
and  staff,  showed  his  purpose  of  accompanying  her, 
though  his  tongue  failed  distinctly  to  announce  it. 

"  Father,"  said  Jeanie,  replying  rather  to  his  action 
than  his  words,  "  ye  had  better  not." 

"  In  tho  strength  of  my  God,"  answered  Deans,  as- 
suming firmness,  "  I  will  go  forth." 


256  TALES    or    MY   LAXDIORD. 

And,  taking  his  daughter's  arm  under  his,  he  began  to 
walk  from  the  door  with  a  step  so  hasty,  that  she  was 
ahiiost  unable  to  keep  up  with  him.  A  trifling  circum- 
stance, but  which  marked  the  perturbed  state  of  his 
mind,  checked  his  course, — "  Your  bonnet,  father  ']'* 
said  Jeanie,  who  observed  he  had  come  out  with  his  grey- 
hairs  uncovered.  He  turned  back  with  something  like  a 
blush  on  his  cheek,  as  if  ashamed  to  have  been  detected 
in  an  omission  which  indicated  so  much  mental  confusion, 
assumed  his  large  blue  Scottish  bonnet,  and  with  a  step 
slower,  but  more  composed,  as  if  the  circumstance  had 
obliged  him  to  summon  up  his  resolution,  and  collect  his 
scattered  ideas,  again  placed  his  daughter's  arm  under 
his,  and  resumed  the  way  to  Edinburgh. 

The  courts  of  justice  were  then,  and  are  still  held,  in 
what  is  called  the  Parliament  Close,  or,  according  to 
modern  phrase,  the  ParHament  Square,  and  occupied  the 
buildings  intended  for  the  accommodation  of  the  Scottish 
Estates.  This  edifice,  though  in  an  imperfect  and  cor- 
rupted style  of  architecture,  had  then  a  grave,  decent, 
and,  as  it  were,  a  judicial  aspect,  which  was  at  least  en- 
titled to  respect  from  its  antiquity.  For  which  venerable 
front,  I  observed,  on  my  last  occasional  visit  to  the  me- 
troplis,  that  modern  taste  had  substituted,  at  great  appar- 
ent expense,  a  pile  so  utterly  inconsistent  with  every 
monument  of  antiquity  around,  and  in  itself  so  clumsy  at 
the  same  time  and  fantastic,  that  it  may  be  likened  to  the 
decorations  of  Tom  Errand  the  porter,  in  the  Trip  to  the 
Jubilee,  when  he  appears  bedizened  with  the  tawdry  fine- 
ry of  Beau  Clincher.    Sed  transeat  cum  ceteris  erroribus. 

The  small  quadrangle,  or  Close,  if  we  may  presume 
still  to  give  it  that  appropriate,  though  antiquated  title, 
which  at  Litchfield,  Salisbury,  and  elsewhere,  is  properly 
appHed  to  designate  the  inclosure  adjacent  to  a  cathedral, 
already  evinced  tokens  of  the  fatal  scene  which  was  that 
day  to  be  acted.  The  soldiers  of  the  City  Guard  were 
on  their  posts,  now  enduring,  and  now  rudely  repelling 
with  the  butts  of  their  muskets,  the  motley  crew  who 
thrust  each  other  forward,  to  catch  a  glance  at  the  unfor' 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  257 

tunate  object  of  trial,  as  she  should  pass  from  the  adja- 
cent prison  to  the  Court  in  which  her  fate  was  to  be 
determined.  All  must  have  occasionally  observed,  with 
disgust,  the  apathy  with  which  the  vulgar  gaze  on  scenes 
of  this  nature,  and  how  seldom,  unless  when  their  sym- 
pathies are  called  forth  by  some  striking  and  extra- 
ordinary circumstance,  they  evince  any  interest  deeper 
than  that  of  callous,  unthinking  bustle,  and  brutal  curios- 
ity. They  laugh,  jest,  quarrel,  and  push  each  other  to 
and  fro,  with  the  same  unfeeling  indifference  as  if  they 
were  assembled  for  some  holiday  sport,  or  to  see  an  idle 
procession.  Occasionally,  however,  this  demeanour,  so 
natural  to  the  degraded  populace  of  a  large  town,  is  ex- 
changed for  a  temporary  touch  of  human  affections  ;  and 
so  it  chanced  on  the  present  occasion. 

When  Deans  and  his  daughter  presented  themselves  in 
the  Close,  and  endeavoured  to  make  their  way  forward  to 
the  door  of  the  Court-house,  they  became  involved  in  the 
mob,  and  subject,  of  course,  to  their  insolence.  As 
Deans  repelled  with  some  force  the  rude  pushes  which 
he  received  on  all  sides,  his  figure  and  antiquated  dress 
caught  the  attention  of  the  rabble,  who  often  show  an 
intuitive  sharpness  in  ascribing  the  proper  character  frora 
external  appearance. — 

"  Ye're  welcome;  whigs, 
Frae  Bothwell  briggs," 

sung  one  fellow,  (for  the  mob  of  Edinburgh  were  at  that 
time  jacobitically  disposed,  probably  because  that  was 
the  line  of  sentiment  most  diametrically  opposite  to  exist- 
ing authority.) 

"  Mess  David  Williamson, 
Chosen  of  twenty, 
Ran  up  the  pu'pit  stair, 
And  sang  Killiecrankie," 

chanted  a  syren,  whose  profession  might  be  guessed  by 
her  appearance.      A  tattered  cadie,  or  errand  porter, 
whom  David  Deans  had  jostled  in  his  attempt  to  extri- 
22*     VOL.  I. 


258  TALES    OF   MY   lANDLOHD. 

cate  himself  from  the  vicinity  of  these  scorners,  exclaim- 
ed in  a  strong  north-country  tone,  "  Ta  de'il  ding  out  her 
Cameronian  een — what  gies  her  titles  to  dunch  gentle- 
mans  about*?" 

"  Make  room  for  the  ruling  elder,"  said  yet  another  ; 
"  he  comes  to  see  a  precious  sister  glorify  God  in  the 
Grass-market." 

"  Whisht ;  shame's  in  ye,  sirs !"  said  the  voice  of  a 
man  very  loudly,  which,  as  quickly  sinking,  said  in  a  low 
but  distinct  tone,  "  It's  her  father  and  sister." 

All  fell  back  to  make  way  for  the  sufferers  ;  and  all, 
even  the  very  rudest  and  most  profligate,  were  struck 
with  shame  and  silence.  In  the  space  thus  abandoned 
to  them  by  the  mob.  Deans  stood,  holding  his  daughter 
by  the  hand,  and  said  to  her,  with  a  countenance  strong- 
ly and  sternly  expressive  of  his  internal  emotion,  "  Ye 
hear  with  your  ears,  and  ye  see  with  your  eyes,  where 
and  to  whom  the  backslidings  and  defections  of  profes- 
sors are  ascribed  by  the  scoffers.  Not  to  themselves 
alone,  but  to  the  kirk  of  which  they  are  members,  and 
to  its  blessed  and  invisible  Head.  Then,  weel  may  we 
take  wi'  patience  our  share  and  portion  of  this  out- 
spreading reproach." 

The  man  who  had  spoken,  no  other  than  our  old 
friend  Dumbiedikes,  whose  mouth,  like  that  of  the  pro- 
phet's ass,  had  been  opened  by  the  emergency  of  the 
case,  now  joined  them,  and,  with  his  usual  taciturnity, 
escorted  them  into  the  Court-house.  No  opposition  was 
offered  to  their  entrance,  either  by  the  guards  or  door- 
keepers ;  and  it  is  even  said,  that  one  of  the  latter  re- 
fused a  shilling  of  civihty-money,  tendered  him  by  the 
Laird  of  Dumbiedikes,  who  was  of  opinion  that  "  siller 
wad  make  a'  easy."  But  this  last  incident  wants  confir- 
mation. 

Admitted  within  the  precincts  of  the  Court-house,  they 
found  the  usual  number  of  busy  office-bearers,  and  idle 
loiterers,  who  attend  on  these  scenes  by  choice,  or  from 
duty.  Burghers  gaped  and  stared  ;  young  lawyers  saun- 
tered, sneered,  and  laughed,  as  in  the  pit  of  the  theatre  ; 


THE    HEART   OF   MID-JLOTHIAN.  259 

while  others  apart  sat  on  a  bench  retired,  and  reasoned 
highly  on  the  doctrines  of  constructive  crime,  and  the 
true  import  of  the  statute.  The  bench  was  prepared  for 
the  arrival  of  the  judges  :  the  jurors  were  in  attendance. 
The  crown  counsel,  employed  in  looking  over  their  briefs 
and  notes  of  evidence,  looked  grave,  and  whispered  with 
each  other.  They  occupied  one  side  of  a  large  table 
placed  beneath  the  bench  ;  on  the  other  sat  the  advo- 
cates, whom  the  humanity  of  the  Scottish  law  (in  this 
particular  much  more  liberal  than  that  of  her  sister  coun- 
try) not  only  permits,  but  enjoins,  to  appear  and  assist 
with  their  advice  and  skill  all  persons  under  trial.  Mr. 
Nichil  Novit,  was  seen  actively  instructing  the  counsel  for 
the  pannel,  (so  the  prisoner  is  called  in  Scottish  law- 
phraseology,)  busy,  bustling,  and  important.  When  they 
entered  the  Court-room,  Deans  asked  the  Laird  in  a 
tremulous  whisper,   "  Where  will  she  sit  V 

Dumbiedikes  whispered  Novit,  who  pointed  to  a  vacant 
space  at  the  bar,  fronting  the  judges,  and  was  about  to 
conduct  Deans  towards  it. 

"  No  !"  he  said  ;  "  I  cannot  sit  by  her — I  cannot  own 
her — not  as  yet  at  least — I  will  keep  out  of  her  sight, 
and  turn  mine  eyes  elsewhere — better  for  us  baith." 

Saddletree,  whose  repeated  interference  with  the 
counsel  had  procured  him  one  or  two  rebuffs,  and  a  spe- 
cial request  that  he  would  concern  himself  with  his  own 
matters,  now  saw  with  pleasure  an  opportunity  of  playing 
the  person  of  importance.  He  bustled  up  to  the  poor 
old  man,  and  proceeded  to  exhibit  his  consequence,  by 
securing,  through  his  interest  with  the  bar-keepers  and 
macers,  a  seat  for  Deans,  in  a  situation  where  he  was 
hidden  from  the  general  eye  by  the  projecting  corner  of 
the  bench. 

"  It's  gude  to  have  a  friend  at  court,"  he  said,  con- 
tinuing his  heartless  harangues  to  the  passive  auditor,  who 
neither  heard  nor  replied  to  them  ;  "  few  folk  but  mysell 
could  hae  sorted  ye  out  a  seat  hke  this — the  Lords  will 
be  here  incontinent,  and  proceed  instanter  to  trial.  They 
wunna  fence  the  court  as  they  do  at  the  Circuit. — The 


260  TALKS    OF   MY   LANDLORD. 

High  Court  of  Justiciary  is  aye  fenced.  But,  Lord's 
sake  !  what's  this  o't  *? — Jeanie,  ye  are  a  cited  witness — 
Macer,  this  lass  is  a  witness — she  maun  be  inclosed — she 
maun  on  nae  account  be  at  large. — Mr.  Novit,  suldna 
Jeanie  Deans  be  inclosed  7" 

Novit  answered  in  the  affirmative,  and  offered  to  con- 
duct Jeanie  to  the  apartment,  in  which,  according  to  the 
scrupulous  practice  of  the  Scottish  Court,  the  witnesses 
remain  in  readiness  to  be  called  into  court  to  give  evi- 
dence ;  and  separated,  at  the  same  time,  from  all  who 
might  influence  their  testimony,  or  give  them  information 
concerning  that  which  was  passed  upon  the  trial. 

"  Is  this  necessary  '?"  said  Jeanie,  still  reluctant  to  quit 
her  father's  hand. 

"  A  matter  of  absolute  needcessity,"  said  Saddletree; 
•'  wha  ever  heard  of  witnesses  no  being  inclosed  9" 

"  Tt  is  really  a  matter  of  necessity,"  said  the  younger 
counsellor,"  retained  for  her  sister  ;  and  Jeanie  reluc- 
tantly followed  the  macer  of  the  court  to  the  place  ap- 
pointed. 

"  This,  Mr.  Deans,"  said  Saddletree,  ^'  is  ca'd  se- 
questering a  witness  ;  but  it's  clean  different  (whilk  may 
be  ye  wadna  fund  out  o'  yoursell)  frae  sequestering  ane's 
estate  or  effects.  I  hae  aften  been  sequestered  as  a  wit- 
ness ;  for  the  Sherifi'  is  in  the  use  whiles  to  cry  me  in  to 
witness  the  declarations  at  precognitions,  and  so  is  Mr. 
Sharpitlaw  ;  but  I  was  ne'er  like  to  be  sequestered  o' 
land  and  gudes  but  ance,  and  that  was  lang  syne,  afore 
I  was  married. — But  whisht,  whisht  !  here's  the  Court 
coming." 

As  he  spoke,  the  five  Lords  of  Justiciary,  in  their  long 
robes  of  scarlet,  faced  with  white,  and  preceded  by  their 
macQrbearerj  entered  with  the  usual  formalities,  and 
took  their  places  upon  the  bench  of  judgment. 

The  audience  rose  to  receive  them  ;  and  the  bustle 
occasioned  by  their  entrance  was  hardly  composed,  when 
a  great  noise  and  confusion  of  persons  struggling,  and 
forcibly  endeavouring  to  enter  at  the  doors  of  the  Court- 
room and  of  the  galleries,  announced  that  the  prisoner 


THE    HEART    OE   MID-LOTHIAN^.  261 

was  about  to  be  placed  at  the  bar.  This  tumult  takes 
place  when  the  doors,  at  first  only  opened  to  those  either 
having  right  to  be  present,  or  to  the  better  and  more 
quahfied  ranks,  are  at  length  laid  open  to  all  whose  curi- 
osity induces  them  to  be  present  on  the  occasion.  With 
.  inflamed  countenances  and  dishevelled  dresses,  struggling 
with,  and  sometimes  tumbling  over  each  other,  in  rushed 
the  rude  multitude,  while  a  few  soldiers,  forming,  as  it 
were,  the  centre  of  the  tide,  could  scarce,  with  all  their 
efforts,  clear  a  passage  for  the  prisoner  to  the  place  which 
she  was  to  occupy.  By  the  authority  of  the  Court,  and 
the  exertions  of  its  officers,  the  tumult  among  the  spec- 
tators was  at  length  appeased,  and  the  unhappy  girl 
brought  forward,  and  placed  betwixt  two  sentinels  with 
drawn  bayonets,  as  a  prisoner  at  the  bar,  where  she  was 
to  abide  her  deliverance  for  good  or  evil,  according  to 
the  issue  of  her  trial. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

We  have  strict  statutes,  and  most  biting  laws — 
The  needful  bits,  and  curbs  for  headstrong  steeds — 
Which,  fnr  these  fourteen  yeau-s,  we  have  let  sleep, 
Like  to  an  o'ergrown  lion  in  a  cave, 

That  goes  not  out  to  prey. 

Measure  for  Measure. 

"  EuPHEMiA  Deans,"  said  the  presiding  judge,  in  an 
accent  in  which  pity  was  blended  with  dignity,  "  stand 
up  and  hsten  to  the  criminal  indictment  now  to  be  pre- 
ferred against  you." 

The  unhappy  girl,  who  had  been  stupified  by  the  con- 
fusion through  which  the  guards  had  forced  a  passage, 
cast  a  bewildered  look  on  the  multitude  of  faces  around 
her,  which  seemed  to  tapestry,  as  it  were,  the  walls,  in  one 
broad  slope  from  the   ceiHng  to  the  floor,  with  human 


262  TALES    OF   MY    LANDLORD. 

countenances,  and  instinctively  obeyed  a  command,  which 
rung  in  her  ears  like  a  trumpet  of  the  judgment-day. 

"  Put  back  your  hair,  Effie,"  said  one  of  the  macers  ; 
for  her  beautiful  and  abundant  tresses  of  long  fair  hair, 
which,  according  to  the  costume  of  the  country,  unmar- 
ried women  were  not  allowed  to  cover  with  any  sort  of 
cap,  and  which,  alas  !  Efhe  dared  no  longer  confind  with 
the  snood  or  riband,  which  implied  purity  of  maiden- 
fame,  now  hung  unbound  and  dishevelled  over  her  face, 
and  almost  concealed  her  features.  On  receiving  this 
hint  from  the  attendant,  the  unfortunate  young  woman, 
with  a  hasty  trembling,  and  apparently  mechanical  com- 
pliance, shaded  back  from  her  face  her  luxuriant  locks, 
and  showed  to  the  whole  court,  excepting  one  individual, 
a  countenance,  which  though  pale  and  emaciated,  was  so 
lovely  amid  its  agony,  that  it  called  forth  a  universal  mur- 
mur of  compassion  and  sympathy.  Apparently  the  ex- 
pressive sound  of  human  feeling  recalled  the  poor  girl 
from  the  stupor  of  fear,  which  predominated  at  first  over 
every  other  sensation,  and  awakened  her  to  the  no  less 
painful  sense  of  shame  and  exposure  attached  to  her 
present  situation.  Her  eye,  which  had  at  first  glanced 
wildly  round,  was  turned  on  the  ground  ;  her  cheek,  at 
first  so  deadly  pale,  began  gradually  to  be  overspread  with 
a  faint  blush,  which  increased  so  fast,  that,  when  in  agony 
of  shame  she  strove  to  conceal  her  face,  her  temples,  her 
brow,  her  neck,  and  all  that  her  slender  fingers  and  small 
palms  could  not  cover,  became  of  the  deepest  crimson. 

All  marked  and  were  moved  by  these  changes  except- 
ing one.  It  was  old  Deans,  who,  motionless  in  his  seat, 
and  concealed,  as  we  have  said,  by  the  corner  of  the 
bench,  from  seeing  or  being  seen,  did  nevertheless  keep 
his  eyes  firmly  fixed  on  the  ground,  as  if  determined  that, 
by  no  possibility  whatsoever,  would  he  be  an  ocular  wit- 
ness of  the  shame  of  his  house. 

"  Ichabod  !"  he  said  to  himself — "  Ichabod  !  my  glory 
is  departed  !" 

While  these  reflections  were  passing  through  his  mind, 
the  indictment,  which  set  forth  in  technical  form  the  crime 


THE    HEART    OF    MlD-JiOTHlAX.  263 

of  which  the  pannel  stood  accused,  was  read  as  usual,  and 
the  prisoner  was  asked  if  she  was  Guihy,  or  not  Guihy. 

*'  Not  guihy  of  my  poor  bairn's  death,"  said  Effie 
Deans,  in  an  accent  corresponding  in  plaintive  softness  of 
tone  to  the  beauty  of  her  features,  and  which  was  not 
heard  by  the  audience  without  emotion. 

The  Court  next  directed  the  counsel  to  plead  to  the 
relevancy  ;  that  is,  to  state  on  either  part  the  arguments 
in  point  of  law,  and  evidence  in  point  of  fact,  against  and 
in  favour  of  the  criminal  ;  after  which  it  is  the  form  of 
the  Court  to  pronounce  a  prehminary  judgment,  sending 
the  cause  to  the  cognizance  of  tiie  jury  or  assize. 

The  counsel  for  the  crown  briefly  stated  the  frequency 
of  the  crime  of  infanticide,  which  had  given  rise  to  the 
special  statute  under  which  the  pannel  stood  indicted. 
He  mentioned  the  various  instances,  many  of  them  mark- 
ed with  circumstances  of  atrocity,  which  had  at  length 
induced  the  King's  Advocate,  though  with  great  reluct- 
ance, to  make  the  experiment,  whether  by  strictly  en- 
forcing the  Act  of  Parliament  which  had  been  made  to 
prevent  such  enormities,  their  occurrence  might  be  pre- 
vented. "  He  expected,"  he  said,  "  to  be  able  to 
estabhsh  by  witnesses,  as  well  as  by  the  declaration  of 
the  pannel  herself,  that  she  was  in  the  state  described  by 
the  statute.  iVccording  to  his  information,  the  pannel  had 
communicated  her  pregnancy  to  no  one,  nor  did  she  al- 
lege in  her  own  declaration  that  she  had  done  so.  This 
secrecy  was  the  first  requisite  in  support  of  the  indict- 
ment. The  same  declaration  admhted,  that  she  had 
borne  a  male  child,  in  circumstances  which  gave  but  too 
much  reason  to  believe  it  had  died  by  the  hands,  or  at 
least  with  the  knowledge  or  consent,  of  the  unhappy 
mother.  It  was  not,  however,  necessary  for  him  to  bring 
positive  proof  that  the  pannel  was  accessary  to  the  mur- 
ther,  nay,  nor  even  to  prove  that  the  child  wasmurthered 
at  all.  It  was  sufficient  to  support  the  indictment,  that  it 
could  not  be  found.  According  to  the  stern,  but  neces- 
sary severity  of  this  statute,  she  who  could  conceal  her 
pregnancy,  who  should  omit  to  call  that  assistance  which 


264  TALES    OF   MY   XANDLORD. 

is  most  necessary  on  such  occasions,  was  held  already  to 
have  meditated  the  death  of  her  offspring,  as  an  event 
mcst  likely  to  be  the  consequence  of  her  culpable  and 
cruel  concealment.  And  if,  under  such  circumstances, 
she  could  not  alternatively  show  by  proof  that  the  infant 
had  died  a  natural  death,  or  produce  it  still  in  life,  she 
must,  under  the  construction  of  the  law,  be  held  to  have 
murthered  it,  and  suffer  death  accordingly." 

The  counsel  for  the  prisoner,  a  man  of  considerable 
fame  in  his  profession,  did  not  pretend  directly  to  combat 
the  arguments  of  the  King's  Advocate.  "  It  was  enough 
for  their  Lordships,"  he  observed,  "  to  know,  that  such 
was  the  law,  and  he  admitted  the  Advocate  had  a  riglit  to 
call  for  the  usual  interlocutor  of  relevancy."  But  he 
stated,  *'  that  when  he  came  to  establish  his  case  by  proof, 
he  trusted  to  make  out  circumstances  which  would  saiis- 
faclorily  elide  the  charge  in  the  libel.  His  client's  story 
was  a  short  but  most  melancholy  one.  She  was  bred  up 
in  the  strictest  tenets  of  religion  and  virtue,  the  daughter 
of  a  worthy  and  conscientious  person,  who,  in  evil  times, 
had  established  a  character  for  courage  and  religion,  by 
becoming  a  sufferer  for  conscience-sake." 

David  Deans  gave  a  convulsive  start  at  hearing  himself 
thus  mendoned,  and  then  resumed  the  situation,  in  which, 
with  his  face  stooped  against  his  hands,  and  both  resting 
against  tiie  corner  of  tlie  elevated  bench  on  which  the 
Judges  sat,  he  had  hitherto  listened  to  the  procedure  in 
the  trial.  The  whig  lawyers  seemed  to  be  interested  ; 
and  ilr^  tories  put  up  their  lip. 

"  Whatever  may  be  our  difference  of  opinion,"  resum- 
ed the  lawyer,  whose  business  it  was  to  carry  his  vvhole 
audience  with  him  if  possible,  "  concerning  the  peculiar 
tenets  of  these  people,"  (here  Deans  groaned  deeply,)  "  it 
is  impossible  to  deny  them  the  praise  of  sound  and  even 
rigid  morals,  or  the  merit  of  training  up  their  children  in 
the  fear  of  God  ;  and  yet  it  was  the  datighter  of  such  a 
person  whom  a  jury  wouli  shoitiy  be  called  upon,  in  the 
absence  of  evidence,  and  upon  mere  presumptions,  to 
convict  of  a  crime,  more  properly  belonging  to  a  heathen, 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  265 

or  a  savage,  than  to  a  Christian  and  civilized  country.  It 
was  true,"  he  admitted,  "  that  the  excellent  nurture  and 
early  instruction  which  the  poor  girl  had  received,  had 
not  been  sufficient  to  preserve  her  from  guilt  and  error. 
She  had  fallen  a  sacrifice  to  an  inconsiderate  affection  for 
a  young  man  of  prepossessing  manners,  as  he  had  been 
informed,  but  of  a  very  dangerous  and  desperate  charac- 
ter. She  was  seduced  under  promise  of  marriage — a 
promise,  which  the  fellow  might  have,  perhaps,  done  her 
justice  by  keeping,  had  he  not  at  that  time  been  called 
upon  by  the  law  to  atone  for  a  crime,  violent  and  desper- 
ate in  itself,  but  which  became  the  preface  to  another 
eventful  history,  every  step  of  which  was  marked  by  blood 
and  guilt,  and  the  final  termination  of  which  had  not  even 
yet  arrived.  He  believed  that  no  one  would  hear  him 
without  surprise,  when  he  stated,- that  the  father  of  this 
infant  now  amissing,  and  said  by  the  learned  x\dvocate  to 
have  been  murdered,  was  no  other  than  the  notorious 
George  Robertson,  the  accomphce  of  Wilson,  the  hero  of 
the  memorable  escape  from  the  Tolbooth  Church,  and, 
as  no  one  knew  better  than  his  learned  friend  the  Advo- 
cate, the  principal  actor  in  the  Porteous  conspiracy." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  interrupt  a  counsel  in  such  a  case  as 
the  present,"  said  the  presiding  Judge  ;  "  bur  I  must  re- 
mind the  learned  gentleman,  that  he  is  travelling  out  of 
the  case  before  us." 

The  counsel  bowed,  and  resumed.  "  He  only  judged 
it  necessary,"  he  said,  "  to  mention  the  name  and  situa- 
tion of  Robertson,  because  the  circumstance  in  which  that 
character  was  placed,  went  a  great  way  in  accounting  for 
the  silence  on  which  his  Majesty's  counsel  had  laid  so 
much  weight,  as  affording  proof  that  his  client  proposed 
to  allow  no  fair  play  for  its  life,  to  the  helpless  being  whom 
she  was  about  to  bring  into  the  world.  She  had  not  an- 
nounced to  her  friends  that  she  had  been  seduced  from 
the  path  of  honour — and  why  had  she  not  done  so  '? — Be- 
cause she  expected  daily  to  be  restored  to  character,  by 
her  seducer  doing  her  that  justice  which  she  knew  to  be 
23     VOL.  I. 


266  TALES    or    MY   XANDLORD. 

in  his  power,  and  believed  to  be  in  his  inclination.  Was 
it  natural — was  it  reasonable — was  it  fair,  to  expect  that 
she  should,  in  the  interim,  become /e/o  de  se  of  her  own 
character,  and  proclaim  her  frailty  to  the  world,  when  she 
had  every  reason  to  expect,  that,  by  conceahng  it  for  a 
season,  it  might  be  veiled  forever  'I  Was  it  not,  on  the 
contrary,  pardonable,  that,  in  such  an  emergency,  a  young 
woman,  in  such  a  situation,  should  be  found  far  from  dis- 
posed to  make  a  confidante  of  every  prying  gossip,  who, 
with  sharp  eyes,  and  eager  ears,  pressed  upon  her  for  an 
explanation  of  suspicious  circumstances,  which  females  in 
the  lower — he  might  say,  which  females  of  all  ranks  are 
so  alert  in  noticing,  that  they  sometimes  discover  them 
where  they  do  not  exist  9  Was  it  strange,  or  was  it  crim- 
inal, that  she  should  have  repelled  their  inquisitive  imper- 
tinence, with  petulant'  denials  !■  The  sense  and  feeling 
of  all  who  heard  him  would  answer  directly  in  the  nega- 
tive. But  although  his  client  had  thus  remained  silent 
towards  those  to  whom  she  was  not  called  upon  to  com- 
municate her  situation, — to  whom,"  said  the  learned  gen- 
tleman, "  I  will  add,  it  would  have  been  unadvised  and 
improper  to  her  to  have  done  so  ;  yet,  I  trust,  I  sliall  re- 
move this  case  most  triumphantly  from  under  the  statute, 
and  obtain  the  unfortunate  young  woman  an  honourable 
dismission  from  your  Lordship's  bar,  by  shoxving  that  she 
did,  in  due  time  and  place,  and  to  a  person  most  fit  for 
such  confidence,  mention  the  calamitous  circumstances  in 
which  she  found  herself.  This  occurred  after  Robertson's 
conviction,  and  when  he  was  lying  in  prison  in  expecta- 
tion of  the  fate  which  his  comrade  Wilson  afterwards  suf- 
fered, and  from  which  he  himself  so  strangely  escaped. 
It  was  then,  when  all  hopes  of  having  her  honour  repaired 
by  wedlock  vanished  from  her  eyes, — when  a  union  wltli 
one  in  Robertson's  situation,  if  still  practicable,  might, 
perhaps,  have  been  regarded  rather  as  an  addition  to  her 
disgrace — it  was  then,  that  I  trust  to  be  able  to  prove  that 
the  prisoner  communicated  and  consulted  with  lier  sister, 
ayoung  woman  several  years  older  than  herself,  the  daugh- 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-tOTHIAX.  267 

ter  of  her  father,  if  1  mistake  not,  by  a  former  marriage, 
upon  the  perils  and  distress  of  her  unhappy  situation." 

"  If  indeed,  you  are  able  to  instruct  tJiat  point,  Mr. 
Fairbrother,"  said  the  presiding  Judge 

"  If  I  am  indeed  able  to  instruct  that  point,  my  Lord," 
resumed  Mr.  Fairbrotiier,  '^  I  trust  not  only  to  serve  my 
client,  but  to  relieve  3'our  Lordships  from  that  which  I 
know  you  feel  the  most  painful  duty  of  your  high  office  ; 
and  to  give  all  who  now  hear  me  the  exquisite  pleasure  of 
beholding  a  creature  so  young,  so  ingenuous,  and  so  beau- 
tiful, as  she  that  is  now  at  the  bar  of  your  Lordships* 
Court,  dismissed  from  thence  in  safety  and  in  honour." 

This  address  seemed  to  aitect  many  of  the  audience, 
and  was  followed  by  a  slight  murmur  of  applause.  Deans, 
as  he  heard  his  daughter's  beauty  and  innocence  appeal- 
ed to,  was  involuntarily  about  to  turn  his  eyes  towards  her  ; 
but,  recollecting  himself,  he  bent  them  again  on  the  ground 
with  stubborn  resolution. 

"  Will  not  my  learned  brother,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
bar,"  continued  the  advocate,  after  a  shcrt  pause,  "  share 
in  this  general  joy,  since  I  know^,  while  he  discharges  his 
duty  in  bringing  an  accused  person  here,  no  one  rejoices 
more  in  their  being  freely  and  honourably  sent  hence  *? 
My  learned  brother  shakes  his  head  doubtfully,  and  lays 
his  hand  on  the  pannel's  declaration.  I  understand  him 
perfectly — he  would  insinuate  that  the  facts  now  stated  to 
your  Lordships  are  inconsistent  with  the  confession  of 
Euphemia  Deans  herself.  I  need  not  remind  your  Lord- 
ships, that  her  present  defence  is  no  whit  to  be  narrowed 
within  the  bounds  of  her  former  confession  ;  and  that  it 
is  not  by  any  account  which  she  may  formerly  have  given 
of  herself,  but  by  what  is  now  to  be  proved  for  or  against 
her,  that  she  must  uhimately  stand  or  fall.  I  am  not  un- 
der the  necessity  of  accounting  for  her  choosing  to  drop 
out  of  her  declaration  the  circumstances  of  her  confes- 
sion to  her  sister.  She  might  not  be  aware  of  its  import- 
ance ;  she  might  be  afraid  of  implicating  her  sister  ;  she 
might  eten  have  forgotten  the  circumstance  entirely,  in 
the  terror  and  distress  of  mind  incidental  to  the  arrest  of 


268  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

SO  young  a  creature  on  a  charge  so  heinous.  Any  of 
these  reasons  are  sufficient  to  account  for  her  having  sup- 
pressed the  truth  in  this  instance,  at  whatever  risk  to  her- 
self ;  and  I  inchne  most  to  her  erroneous  fear  of  crim- 
inating her  sister,  because  1  observe  she  had  a  similar  ten- 
derness to  her  lover,  (however  undeserved  on  his  part.) 
and  has  never  once  mentioned  Robertson's  name  from  be- 
ginning to  end  of  her  declaration. 

"  But,  my  Lords,"  continued  Fairbrotber,  "  I  am  aware 
the  King's  Advocate  will  expect  me  to  show,  that  the 
proof  1  offer  is  consistent  with  oiher  circumstances  of  the 
case,  which  1  do  not  and  cannot  deny.  He  will  demand 
of  me  how  Effie  Deans's  confession  to  her  sister,  pre- 
vious to  her  dehvery,  is  reconcilable  with  the  mystery  of 
the  birth, — with  the  disappearance,  perhaps  the  murder, 
(for  1  will  not  deny  a  possibility  which  1  cannot  disprove,) 
of  the  infant.  My  Lords,  the  explanation  of  this  is  to  be 
found  in  the  placability,  perchance  I  may  say,  in  the  fa- 
cility and  pliability,  of  the  female  sex.  The  dulcis  Am- 
aryUidis  irae,  as  your  Lordships  well  know,  are  easily 
appeased  ;  nor  is  it  possible  to  conceive  a  woman  so 
atrociously  offended  by  the  man  whom  she  has  loved,  but 
that  she  will  retain  a  fund  of  forgiveness,  upon  which  his 
penitence,  whether  real  or  affected,  may  draw  largely, 
with  a  certainty  that  his  bills  will  be  answered.  We  can 
prove,  by  a  letter  produced  in  evidence,  that  this  villain 
Robertson,  from  the  bottom  of  the  dungeon  whence  he 
already  probably  meditated  the  escape,  which  he  after- 
wards accomplished  by  the  assistance  of  his  comrade,  con- 
trived to  exercise  authority  over  the  mind,  and  to  direct 
the  motions,  of  this  unhappy  girl.  It  was  in  compliance 
with  his  injunctions,  expressed  in  that  letter,  that  the  pan- 
nel  was  prevailed  upon  to  alter  the  line  of  conduct  which 
her  own  better  thoughts  had  suggested  ;  and,  instead  of 
resorting,  when  her  time  of  travail  approached,  to  the 
protection  of  her  own  family,  was  induced  to  confide  her- 
self to  the  charge  of  some  vile  agent  of  this  nefarious 
seducer,  and  by  her  conducted  to  one  of  thes^ solitary 
and  secret  purlieus  of  villany,  which,  to  the  shame  of  our 


'rHE    HEART   OF  MID-LOTHIAJf.  26^ 

police,  still  are  suffered  to  exist  in  the  suburbs  of  this  city, 
where,  with  the  assistance,  and  under  the  charge  of  a 
person  of  her  own  sex,  she  bore  a  male  child,  under  cir- 
cumstances which  added  treble  bitterness  to  the  woe  de- 
nounced against  our  original  mother.  What  purpose 
Robertson  had  in  all  this,  it  is  hard  to  tell,  or  even  to  guess. 
He  may  have  meant  to  marry  the  girl,  for  her  father  is  a 
i^nan  of  substance.  But  for  the  termination  of  the  story, 
and  the  conduct  of  the  woman  whom  he  had  placed  about 
the  person  of  Euphemia  Deans,  it  is  still  more  difficult 
to  account.  The  unfortunate  young  woman  was  visited 
by  the  fever  incidental  to  her  situation.  In  this  fever  she 
appears  to  have  been  deceived  by  the  person  that  waited 
on  her  ;  and  on  recovering  her  senses,  she  found  that  she 
was  childless  in  that  abode  of  misery.  Her  infant  had 
been  carried  off,  perhaps  for  the  worst  purposes,  by  the 
wretch  that  waited  on  her.  It  may  have  been  murdered 
for  what  I  can  tell." 

He  was  here  interrupted  by  a  piercing  shriek,  uttered 
by  the  unfortunate  prisoner.  She  was  with  difficulty 
brought  to  compose  herself.  Her  counsel  availed  himself 
of  the  tragical  interruption,  to  close  his  pleading  with  effect. 

"  My  Lords,"  said  he,  "  in  that  piteous  cry  you  heard 
the  eloquence  of  maternal  affection,  far  surpassing  the 
force  of  my  poor  words — Rachel  weeping  for  her  chil- 
dren !  Nature  herself  bears  testimony  in  favour  of  the 
tenderness  and  acuteness  of  the  prisoner's  parental  feel- 
ings. I  will  not  dishonour  her  plea  by  adding  a  word 
more." 

"  Heard  ye  ever  the  like  o'  that,  Laird  *?"  said  Sad- 
dletree to  Dumbiedikes,  when  the  Counsel  had  ended  bis 
speech.  "  There's  a  chield  can  spin  a  muckle  pirn  out 
of  a  wee  tait  of  tow  !  De'il  haet  he  kens  mair  about  it 
than  what's  in  the  declaration,  and  a  surmise  that  Jeanie 
Deans  suld  hae  been  able  to  say  something  about  her 
sister's  situation,  whilk  surmise  Mr.  Crossmyloof  says, 
rests  on  sma'  authority. — And  he's  cleckit  this  great 
muckle  bird  out  o'  this  wee  egg  !  He  could  wile  the  very 
23*     VOL.  I. 


270  TALES    OF    MY    lANDIiORD. 

flounders  out  o'  the  Frith. — What  garr'd  my  father  no 
send  nie  to  Utrelcht  9 — But  whisht,  the  Court  is  gaun  to 
pronounce  the  interlocutor  of  relevancy." 

And  accordingly  the  Judges,  after  a  few  words,  record- 
ed their  judgment,  which  bore,  that  the  indictment,  if 
proved,  was  relevant  to  infer  the  pains  of  law  :  And  that 
the  defence,  that  the  pannel  had  communicated  her  situ- 
ation to  her  sister,  was  a  relevant  defence  :  And,  finally, 
appointed  the  said  indictment  and  defence  to  be  submitted 
to  the  judgment  of  an  assize. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Most  righteous  judge  !  a  sentence. — Come,  prepare. 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

It  is  by  no  means  my  intention  to  describe  minutely 
the  forms  of  a  Scottish  criminal  trial,  nor  am  I  sure  that  I 
could  draw  up  an  account  so  intelligible  and  accurate  as 
to  abide  the  criticism  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  long  robe. 
It  is  enough  to  say,  that  the  jury  was  impannelled,  and 
the  case  proceeded.  The  prisoner  was  again  required  to 
plead  to  the  charge,  and  she  again  replied,  "  Not  Guilty," 
in  the  same  heart-thrilling  tone  as  before. 

The  crown  counsel  then  called  two  or  three  female 
witnesses,  by  whose  testimony  it  was  estabhshed,  that 
Effie's  situation  had  been  remarked  by  them,  that  they 
had  taxed  her  with  the  fact,  and  that  her  answers  had 
amounted  to  an  angry  and  petulant  denial  of  what  they 
charged  her  with.  But,  as  very  frequently  happens,  the 
declaration  of  the  pannel  or  accused  party  herself  was 
the  evidence  which  bore  hardest  upon  her  case. 

In  case  these  Tales  should  ever  find  their  way  across 
the  Border,  it  may  be  proper  to  apprize  the  southern 
reader,  that  it  is  the  practice  in  Scotland,  on  apprehend- 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  271 

irig  a  suspected  person,  to  subject  him  to  a  judicial  exam- 
ination before  a  magistrate.  He  is  not  compelled  to  an- 
swer any  of  the  questions  asked  at  him,  but  may  remain 
silent  if  he  sees  it  his  mierest  to  do  so.  But  whatever 
answers  he  chooses  to  give  are  formally  written  down, 
and  being  subscribed  by  himself  and  the  magistrate,  are 
produced  against  the  accused  in  case  of  his  being  brought 
to  trial.  It  is  true,  that  these  declarations  are  not  pro- 
duced as  being  in  themselves  evidence  properly  so  called, 
but  only  as  adminicles  of  testimony,  tending  to  corrobo- 
rate what  is  considered  as  legal  and  proper  evidence. 
Notwithstanding  this  nice  distinction,  however,  introduced 
by  lawyers  to  reconcile  this  procedure  to  their  own  gen- 
eral rule,  that  a  man  cannot  be  required  to  bear  witness 
against  himself,  it  nevertheless  usually  happens  that  these 
declarations  become  the  means  of  condemning  the  accus- 
ed, as  it  were,  out  of  their  own  mouths.  The  prisoner, 
upon  these  previous  examinations,  has  indeed  the  privi- 
lege of  remaining  silent  if  he  pleases  ;  but  every  man 
necessarily  feels  that  a  refusal  to  answer  natural  and  per- 
tinent interrogatories,  put  by  judicial  authority,  is  in  itself 
a  strong  proof  of  guilt,  and  will  certainly  lead  to  his  being 
committed  to  prison  ;  and  few  can  renounce  the  hope  of 
obtaining  liberty,  by  giving  some  specious  account  of  them- 
selves, and  showing  apparent  frankness  in  explaining  their 
motives  and  accounting  for  their  conduct.  It  therefore 
seldom  happens,  that  the  prisoner  refuses  to  give  a  judi- 
cial declaration,  in  which,  either  by  letting  out  too  much 
of  the  truth,  or  by  endeavouring  to  substitute  a  fictitious 
story,  he  almost  always  exposes  himself  to  suspicion  and 
to  contradictious,  which  weigh  heavily  in  the  minds  of 
the  jury." 

The  declaration  of  Effie  Deans  was  uttered  on  other 
principles,  and  the  following  is  a  sketch  of  its  contents, 
given  in  the  judicial  form,  in  which  they  may  still  be  found 
in  the  Books  of  Adjournal. 

The  declarant  admitted  a  criminal  intrigue  with  an  in- 
dividual whose  name  she  desired  to  conceal.  **  Beingr 
interrogated,   what  her  reason  was  for  secrecy  on  this 


272  TALES    or    MY    LANDLORD. 

point  9  She  declared,  that  she  had  no  right  to  blame  that 
person's  conduct  more  than  she  did  her  own,  ajid  that  she 
was  willing  to  confess  her  own  faults,  but  not  to  say  any- 
thing which  might  criminate  the  absent.  Interrogated,  if 
she  confessed  her  situation  to  any  one,  or  made  any  pre- 
paration for  her  confinement  9  Declares,  she  did  not. 
And  being  interrogated,  why  she  forebore  to  take  steps 
which  her  situation  so  peremptorily  required  9  Declares, 
she  was  asharned  to  tell  her  friends,  and  she  trusted  the 
person  she  has  mentioned  would  provide  for  her  and  the 
infant.  Interrogated,  if  he  did  so  9  Declares,  that  he  did 
not  do  so  personally  j  but  that  it  was  not  his  fault,  for  that 
the  declarant  is  convinced  he  would  have  laid  down  his 
life  sooner  than  the  bairn  or  she  had  come  to  harm.  In- 
terrogated, what  prevented  him  from  keeping  his  promise  f 
Declares,  that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  do  so,  and  de- 
chnes  farther  answer  to  this  question.  Interrogated, 
where  she  was  from  the  period  she  left  her  master,  Mr. 
Saddletree's  family,  until  her  appearance  at  her  father's, 
at  St.  Leonard's,  the  day  before  she  was  apprehended  9 
Declares,  she  does  not  remember.  And,  on  the  inter- 
rogatory being  repeated,  declares,  she  does  not  mind 
muckle  about  it,  for  she  was  very  ill.  On  the  question 
being  again  repeated,  she  declares,  she  will  tell  the  truth, 
if  it  should  be  the  undoing  of  her,  so  long  as  she  is  not 
asked  to  tell  on  other  folk  ;  and  admits,  that  she  passed 
that  interval  of  time  in  the  lodging  of  a  woman,  an  ac- 
quaintance of  that  person  who  had  wished  her  to  that 
place  to  be  delivered,  and  that  she  was  there  delivered 
accordingly  of  a  male  child.  Interrogated,  what  was  the 
name  of  that  person  9  Declares  and  refuses  to  answer 
this  question.  Interrogated,  where  she  lives  9  Declares, 
she  has  no  certainty,  for  that  she  was  taken  to  the  lodging 
aforesaid  under  cloud  of  night.  Interrogated,  if  the  lodg- 
ing was  in  the  city  or  suburbs  9  Declares  and  refuses  to 
answer  that  question.  Interrogated,  whether,  when  she 
left  the  house  of  Mr.  Saddletree,  she  went  up  or  down 
the  street  9  Declares  and  refuses  to  answer  the  question. 
Interrogated,  whether  she  had  ever  seen  the  woman  be- 


THE    HEART   OF   MID-LOTHIAX.  273 

fore  she  was  wished  to  her,  as  she  termed  it,  by  the  per- 
son whose  name  she  refuses  to  answer  ?  Declares  and 
replies,  not  to  her  knowledge.  Interrogated,  whether  this 
woman  was  introduced  to  her  by  the  said  person  verbally, 
or  by  writing  9  Declares,  she  has  no  freedom  to  answer 
this  question.  Interrogated,  if  the  child  was  alive  when 
it  was  born  ')  Declares,  that — God  help  her  and  it  ! — it 
certainly  was  alive.  Interrogated,  if  it  died  a  natural 
death  after  birth  !■  Declares,  not  to  her  knowledge.  In- 
terrogated, where  it  now  is  9  Declares,  she  would  give 
her  right  hand  to  ken,  but  that  she  never  hopes  to  see 
mair  than  the  banes  of  it.  And  being  interrogated,  why 
she  supposes  it  is  now  dead  9  the  declarant  wept  bitterly, 
and  made  no  answer.  Interrogated,  if  the  woman,  in 
whose  lodging  she  was,  seemed  to  be  a  fit  person  to  be 
with  her  in  that  situation  ^  Declares,  she  might  be  fit 
enough  for  skill,  but  that  she  was  a  hard-hearted  bad 
woman.  Interrogated,  if  there  was  any  other  person  in 
the  lodging  except  themselves  two  9  Declares,  that  she 
thinks  there  was  another  woman,  but  her  head  was  so 
carried  with  pain  of  body  and  trouble  of  mind,  that  she 
minded  her  very  little.  Interrogated,  when  the  child  was 
taken »away  from  her  9  Declares,  that  she  fell  in  a  fever, 
and  was  light-headed,  and  when  she  came  to  her  own 
mind,  the  woman  told  her  the  bairn  was  dead  ;  and  that 
the  declarant  answered,  if  it  was  dead  it  had  had  foul  play. 
That,  thereupon,  the  woman  was  very  sair  on  her,  and 
gave  her  much  ill  language  ;  and  that  the  deponent  was 
frightened,  and  crawled  out  of  the  house  when  her  back 
was  turned,  and  went  home  to  St.  Leonard's  Crags,  as 
well  as  a  woman  in  her  condition  dought.  Interrogated, 
why  she  did  not  tell  her  story  to  her  sister  and  father,  and 
get  force  to  search  the  house  for  her  child,  dead  or  alive  9 
Declares,  it  was  her  purpose  to  do  so,  but  she  had  not 
time.  Interrogated,  why  she  conceals  the  name  of  the 
woman,  and  the  place  of  her  abode  now  9  The  de- 
clarant remained  silent  for  a  time,  and  then  said,  that  to 
do  so  could  not  repair  the  skaith  that  was  done,  but  might 
be  the  occasion  of  more.     Interrogated,  whether  she  had 


274  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

herself,  at  any  time,  had  any  purpose  of  putting  away  the 
child  hy  violence  '?  Declares,  Never  ;  so  might  God  be 
merciful  to  her — and  then  again  declares,  Never,  when 
she  was  in  her  perfect  senses  ;  but  what  bad  thoughts  the 
Enemy  might  put  into  her  brain  when  she  was  out  of  her- 
self, she  cannot  answer.  And  again  solemnly  interroga- 
ted, declares,  that  she  would  have  been  drawn  with  wild 
horses,  rather  than  have  touched  the  bairn  with  an  un- 
motherly  hand.  Interrogated,  declares,  that  among  the 
ill  language  the  woman  gave  her,  she  did  say,  sure 
enough,  that  the  declarant  had  hurt  the  bairn  when  she 
was  in  the  brain-fever  ;  but  that  the  declarant  does  not 
believe  that  she  said  this  from  any  other  cause  than  to 
frighten  her,  and  make  her  be  silent.  Interrogated,  what 
else  the  woman  said  to  her  ?  Declares,  that  when  the  de- 
clarant cried  loud  for  her  bairn,  and  was  hke  to  raise  the 
neighbours,  the  woman  threatened  her,  that  they  that  could 
stop  the  wean's  skirling  would  slop  her's,  if  she  did  not 
keep  a'  the  lounder.  And  that  this  threat,  with  the  man- 
ner of  the  woman,  made  the  declarant  conclude,  that  the 
bairn's  life  was  gone,  and  her  own  in  danger,  for  that  the 
\^'oman  was  a  desperate  bad  woman,  as  the  declarant 
judged,  from  the  language  she  used.  Interrogated,  de- 
clares, that  the  fever  and  delirium  were  brought  on  her 
by  hearing  bad  news,  suddenly  told  to  her,  but  refuses  to 
say  w^hat  the  said  news  related  to.  Interrogated,  why  she 
does  not  now  communicate  these  particulars,  which  might, 
perhaps,  enable  the  magistrate  to  ascertain  whether  the 
child  is  living  or  dead  ;  and  requested  to  observe,  that 
her  refusing  to^lo  so  exposes  her  own  life,  and  leaves  the 
child  in  bad  hands  ;  as  also,  that  her  present  refusal  to 
answer  on  such  points,  is  inconsistent  with  her  alleged  in- 
tention to  make  a  clean  breast  to  her  sister  7  Declares, 
that  she  kens  the  bairn  is  now  dead,  or,  if  living,  there  is 
one  that  will  look  after  it ;  that  for  her  own  living  or  dy- 
ing, she  is  in  God's  hands,  who  knows  her  innocence  of 
harming  her  bairn  with  her  will  or  knowledge  ;  and  that 
she  has  altered  her  resolution  of  speaking  out,  which  she 
entertained  when  she  left  the  woman's  lodging,  on  account 


THE    HEAUT    OF    MID-LOTHIAX.  ^iO 

of  a  matter  which  she  has  since  learned.  And  declares, 
ID  general,  that  she  is  wearied,  and  will  answer  no  more 
questions  at  this  time." 

Upon  a  subsequent  examination,  Euphemia  Deans  ad- 
hered to  the  declaration  she  had  formerly  made,  with  this 
addition,  that  a  paper  found  in  her  trunk  being  shown  to 
her,  she  admitted  thit  it  contained  the  credentials,  in  con- 
sequence of  which  she  resigned  herself  to  the  conduct  of 
the  woman  at  whose  lodgings  she  was  dehvered  of  the 
child.     Its  tenor  ran  thus  : — 

''  Dearest  Effie, 
"  I  have  gotten  the  means  to  send  to  you  by  a  woman 
who  is  well  qualified  to  assist  you  in  your  approaching 
strait  ;  she  is  not  what  1  could  wish  her,  but  I  cannot  do 
better  for  you  in  my  present  condition.  1  am  obliged  to 
trust  to  her  in  this  present  calamity,  tor  myself  and  you 
too.  I  hope  for  the  best,  though  lam  now  in  a  sore  pinch  ; 
yet  thought  is  free — I  think  Handle  Andie  and  I  may 
queer  the  stifler*  for  all  that  is  come  and  gone.  You 
will  be  angry  for  me  writing  this,  to  my  little  Cameronian 
Lily  ;  but  if  I  can  but  live  to  be  a  comfort  to  you,  and  a 
father  to  your  babie,  you  will  have  plenty  of  time  to  scold. 
— Once  more  let  none  know  your  counsel — my  life  de- 
pends on  this  hag,  d — n  her — she  is  both  deep  and  dan- 
gerous, but  she  has  more  wiles  and  wit  than  ever  were  in 
a  beldame's  head,  and  has  cause  to  be  true  to  me.  Fare- 
well, my  Lily — Do  not  droop  on  my  account — in  a  w^eek 
1  will  be  }ours,  or  no  more  my  own." 

Then  fjllowed  a  postscript.  "  If  they  must  truss  me, 
I  will  repent  of  nothing  so  much,  even  at  the  last  hard 
pinch,  as  of  the  injury  I  have  done  my  Lily." 

Effie  refused  to  say  from  whom  she  had  received  this 
letter,  but  enough  of  the  story  was  now  known,  to  ascer- 
tain that  it  came  from  Robertson  ;  and  from  the  date,  it 
appeared  to  have  been  written  about  the  time  when  An- 
drew Wilson   and  he   were  m.editating  their  first  abortive 

'^  Avoid  the  srallows. 


276  TALES    or   MY   LANDLORD. 

attempt  to  escape,  which  miscarried  in  the  manner  men- 
tioned m  the  heginning  of  this  history. 

The  evidence  of  the  Crown  heing  concluded,  the  coun- 
sel for  the  prisoner  began  to  lead  a  proof  in  her  defence. 
The  first  witnesses  were  examined  upon  tlie  girl's  char- 
acter. All  gave  her  an  excellent  one,  but  none  with  more 
feeling  than  worthy  Mrs.  Saddletree,  who,  with  the  tears 
on  her  cheeks,  declared,  that  she  could  not  have  had  a 
higiier  opinion  of  Effie  Deans,  or  a  more  sincere  regard 
for  her,  if  she  had  been  her  own  daughter.  All  present 
gave  the  honest  woman  credh  i'or  her  goodness  of  heart, 
excepting  her  husband,  who  whispered  to  Dumbiedikes, 
"  That  Nichil  Novit  of  yours  is  but  a  raw  hand  at  leading 
evidence,  I'm  thinking.  What  signified  his  bringing  4 
woman  here  to  snotter  and  snivel,  and  bather  their  Lord- 
ships 9  He  should  hae  ceeted  me,  sir,  and  1  should  hae 
g;t:n  them  sic  a  screed  o'  testimoiiy,  they  should  nae  hae 
touched  a  hair  o'  her  head." 

"  Hadna  ye  better  get  up  and  try't  yet  9"  said  the 
Laird.     "  I'll  make  a  sign  to  Novit." 

"  Na,  na,"  said  Saddletree,  "  thank  ye  for  naething, 
neighbour — that  would  be  ultroneous  evidence,  and  I  ken 
what  belangs  to  that  ;  but  Nichil  Novit  suld  hae  had  me 
ceeted  debito  tempore.'^''  And  wiping  his  mouth  with  his 
silk  handkerchief  with  great  importance,  he  resumed  the 
port  and  manner  of  an  edified  and  intelligent  auditor.  , 

]\Ir.  Fairbrother  now  premised,  in  a  few  words,  '*  that 
he  meant  to  bring  forward  his  most  important  witness, 
upon  whose  evidence  the  cause  must  in  a  great  measure 
depend.  What  his  client  was,  they  had  learned  from  the 
preceding  witnesses;  and  so  far  as  general  character, 
given  in  the  most  forcible  terms,  and  even  with  tears, 
could  interest  every  one  in  her  fate,  she  had  already 
gained  that  advantage.  It  was  necessary,  he  admitted, 
that  he  should  produce  more  positive  testimony  of  her 
innocence  than  what  arose  out  of  general  character,  and 
this  he  undertook  to  do  by  the  mouth  of  the  person  to 
whom  she  had  communicated  her  situation — by  the  month 
of  her   natural  counsellor  and  guardian — her  sister. — 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  277 

Macer,  call  into  court,  Jean,  or  Jeanie  Deans,  daughter 
of  David  Deans,  cowfeeder,  at  Saint  Leonard's  Crags." 

When  he  uttered  these  words,  the  prisoner  at  the  bar 
instantly  started  up,  and  stretched  herself  half-way  over 
the  bar,  towards  the  side  at  which  her  sister  was  to  enter. 
And  when,  slowly  following  the  officer,  the  witness  ad- 
vanced to  the  foot  of  the  table,  Effie,  with  the  whole  ex- 
pression of  her  countenance  altered,  from  that  of  confus- 
ed shame  and  dismay,  to  an  eager,  imploring,  and  almost 
ecstatic  earnestness  of  entreaty,  with  outstretched  hands, 
hair  streaming  back,  eyes  raised  eagerly  to  her  sister's 
face,  and  glistening  through  tears,  exclaimed,  in  a  tone 
which  went  through  the  heart  of  all  who  heard  her — "  O 
Jeanie,  Jeanie,  save  me,  save  me  !" 

With  a  different  feeling,  yet  equally  appropriate  to  his 
proud  and  self-dependent  character,  old  Deans  drew 
himself  back  still  farther  under  the  cover  of  the*  bench, 
so  that  when  Jeanie,  as  she  entered  the  court,  cast  a  timid 
glance  towards  the  place  at  which  she  had  left  him  seated, 
his  venerable  figure  was  no  longer  visible.  He  sat  down 
on  the  other  side  of  Dumbiedikes,  wrung  his  hands  hard, 
and  whispered,  "  Ah,  Laird,  this  is  warst  of  a' — if  lean 
but  win  ower  this  part — I  feel  my  head  unco  dizzy ;  but 
ray  iMaster  is  strong  in  his  servant's  weakness."  After  a 
moment's  mental  prayer,  he  again  started  up,  as  if  impa- 
tient of  continuing  in  any  one  posture,  and  gradually  edged 
himself  forward  towards  the  place  he  had  just  quitted. 

Jeanie  in  the  meantime  had  advanced  to  the  bottom  of 
the  table,  when,  unable  to  resist  the  impulse  of  affection, 
she  suddenly  extended  her  hand  to  her  sister.  Effie  was 
just  whhin  the  distance  that  she  could  seize  it  with  both 
hers,  press  it  to  her  mouth,  cover  it  with  kisses,  and  bathe 
it  in  tears,  with  the  fond  devotion  that  a  CathoUc  would 
pay  to  a  guardian  saint  descended  for  his  safety  ;  while 
Jeanie,  hiding  her  own  face  with  her  other  hand,  wept 
bitterly.  The  sight  would  have  moved  a  heart  of  stone, 
much  more  of  flesh  and  blood.  Many  of  the  spectators 
shed  tears,  and  it  was  some  time  before  the  presiding 
24     VOL.  I. 


278  TALES    OF   MY   lANDLORD. 

Judge  himself  could  so  far  subdue  his  emotion,  as  to 
request  the  witness  to  compose  herself,  and  the  prisoner 
to  forbear  those  marks  of  eager  affection,  which,  however 
natural,  could  not  be  permitted  at  that  time,  and  in  that 
presence. 

The  solemn  oath, — "  the  truth  to  tell,  and  no  truth  to 
conceal,  as  far  as  she  knew  or  should  be  asked  at,"  was 
then  administered  by  the  Judge,  "  in  the  name  of  God, 
and  as  the  witness  should  answer  to  God  at  the  great  day 
of  judgment ;"  an  awful  adjuration,  which  seldom  fails  to 
make  impression  even  on  the  most  hardened  characters, 
and  to  strike  with  fear  even  the  most  upright,  Jeanie, 
educated  in  the  most  devout  reverence  for  the  name  and 
attributes  of  the  Deity,  was,  by  the  solemnity  of  a  direct 
appeal  to  his  person  and  justice,  awed,  but  at  the  same 
time  elevated  above  all  considerations,  save  those  which 
she  could,  with  a  clear  conscience,  call  him  to  witness. 
She  repeated  the  form  in  a  low  and  reverend,  but  distinct 
tone  of  voice,  after  the  Judge,  to  whom,  and  not  to  any 
inferior  officer  of  the  Court,  the  task  is  assigned  in  Scot- 
land of  directing  the  witnesses  in  that  solemn  appeal, 
which  is  the  sanction  of  his  testimony. 

When  the  Judge  had  finished  the  established  form,  he 
added  in  a  feehng,  but  yet  a  monitory  tone,  an  advice, 
which  the  circumstances  appeared  to  him  to  call  for. 

*'  Young  woman,"  these  were  his  words,  "  you  come 
before  this  Court  in  circumstances,  wliich  it  would  be 
worse  than  cruel  not  to  pity  and  to  sympathize  with.  Yet 
it  is  my  duty  to  tell  you,  that  the  truth,  whatever  its  con- 
sequences may  be,  the  truth  is  what  you  owe  to  your 
country,  and  to  that  God  whose  word  is  truth,  and  whose 
name  you  have  now  invok'ed.  Use  your  own  time  in  an- 
swering the  questions  that  gentleman,"  (pointing  to  the 
counsel)  "  shall  put  to  you — But  remember,  that  what 
you  may  be  tempted  to  say  beyond  what  is  the  actual 
truth,  you  must  answer  both  here  and  hereafter." 

■The  usual  questions  were  then  put  to  her  :  Whether 
any  one  had  instructed  her  what  evidence  she  had  to  de- 
liver ?   Whether  any  one  had  given  or  promised  her  any 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-l.OTHlAX.  279 

good  deed,  hire,  or  reward  for  her  testimony  9  Whether 
iihe  had  any  malice  or  ill-will  at  his  Majesty's  Advocate, 
being  the  party  against  whom  she  was  cited  as  a  witness  f 
To  which  questions  she  successively  answered  by  a  quiet 
negative.  But  their  tenor  gave  great  scandal  and  offence 
to  her  father,  who  was  not  aware  that  they  are  put  to 
every  witness  as  a  matter  of  form. 

"  Na,  na,"  he  exclaimed,  loud  enough  to  be  heard, 
"  my  bairn  is  no  like  the  widow  of  Tekoah — nae  man 
has  putten  words  into  her  mouth." 

One  of  the  Judges,  better  acquainted,  perhaps,  with 
the  Books  of  Adjournal  than  with  the  Book  of  Samuel, 
was  disposed  to  make  some  instant  inquiry  after  this 
Widow  Tekoah,  who,  as  he  construed  the  matter,  had 
been  tampering  with  the  evidence.  But  the  presiding 
Judge,  better  versed  in  Scripture  history,  whispered  to  his 
learned  brother  the  necessary  explanation  ;  and  the  pause 
occasioned  by  this  mistake,  had  the  good  effect  of  giving 
Jeanie  Deans  time  to  collect  her  spirits  for  the  painful 
task  she  had  to  perform. 

Fairbrother,* whose  practice  and  intelligence  were  con- 
siderable, saw  the  necessity  of  letting  the  witness  com- 
pose herself.  In  his  heart  he  suspected  that  she  came  to 
bear  false  witness  in  her  sister's  cause. 

"  But  that  is  her  own  affair,"  thought  Fairbrother  ; 
*'  and  it  is  my  business  to  see  that  she  has  plenty  of  time 
to  regain  composure,  and  to  deliver  her  evidence,  be  it 
true,  or  be  it  false — valeat  quantum.''^ 

Accordingly,  he  commenced  his  interrogatories  with 
uninteresting   questions,  which  admitted  of  instant  reply. 

"  You  are,  1  think,  the  sister  of  the  prisoner  ?" 

*•  Yes,  sir." 

"  Not  the  full  sister,  however  ?" 

'•'  No,  sir, — we  arc  by  different  mothers." 

"  True  ;  and  you  are,  I  think,  several  years  older 
than  your  sister  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  &c. 

Aft' •  the  advocate  hnd  conceived,  that,  by  these  pre- 
liminary and  unimportant  questions,  he  had  familiarized 


280  TALES    OF    MY    lAXDLORD. 

the  witness  with  the  situation  in  which  she  stood,  he  ask- 
ed, "  whether  she  had  not  remarked  her  sister's  state  of 
health  to  be  altered  during  the  latter  part  of  the  term, 
when  she  had  lived  with  Mrs.  Saddletree  9" 

Jeanie  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

"  And  she  told  you  the  cause  of  it,  my  dear,  I  sup- 
pose 9"  said  Fairbrother,  in  an  easy,  and,  as  one  may 
?ay,  an  inductive  sort  of  tone.  . 

"  1  am  sorry  to  interrupt  my  brother,"  said  the  Crown 
Counsel,  rising,  "  but  I  am  in  your  Lordship's  judgment, 
whether  this  be  not  a  leading  question." 

"  If  this  point  is  to  be  debated,"  said  the  presiding 
Judge,  "  the  witness  must  be  removed." 

For  the  Scottish  lawyers  regard  with  a  sacred  and 
scrupulous  horror  every  question  so  shaped  by  the  coun- 
sel examining,  as  to  convey  to  a  witness  the  least  intima- 
tion of  the  nature  of  the  answer  which  is  desired  from 
him.  These  scruples,  though  founded  on  an  excellent 
principle,  are  sometimes  carried  to  an  absurd  pitch  of 
nicety,  especially  as  it  is  generally  easy  for  a  lawyer  who 
has  his  wits  about  him  to  elude  the  objection.  Fairbroth- 
er did  so  in  the  present  case. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  to  waste  the  time  of  the  Court, 
ray  Lord  ;  since  the  King's  Counsel  thinks  it  worth  while 
to  object  to  the  form  of  my  question,  I  will  shape  it  oth- 
erwise.— Pray,  young  woman,  did  you  ask  your  sister 
any  question  when  you  observed  her  looking  unwell '? — 
take  courage — speak  out." 

"  I  asked  her,"  replied  Jeanie,  "  what  ailed  her." 

"  Very  well — take  your  own  time — and  what  was  the 
answer  she  made  9"  continued  Mr.  Fairbrother. 

Jeanie  was  silent,  and  looked  deadly  pale.  It  was  not 
that  she  at  any  one  instant  entertained  an  idea  of  the 
possibility  of  prevarication — it  was  the  natural  hesitation 
to  extinguish  the  last  spark  of  hope  that  remained  for  her 
sister. 

"  Take  courage,  young  woman,"  said  Fairbrother. — 
''  I  asked  what  your  sister  said  ailed  her  when  you  in- 
quired 9" 


THE    HEART    OF  MID-LOTHIAN.  281 

"  Nothing,"  answered  Jeanie,  with  a  faint  voice,  which 
was  yet  heard  distinctly  in  the  most  distant  corner  of  the 
Court-room, — such  an  awful  and  profound  silence  had 
been  preserved  during  the  anxious  interval,  which  had 
interposed  betwixt  the  lawyer's  question  and  the  answer 
of  the  witness. 

Fairbrother's  countenance  fell ;  but  with  that  ready 
presence  of  mind,  which  is  as  useful  in  civil  as  in  military 
emergencies,  he  immediately  rallied.  "  Nothing  ?  True  ; 
you  mean  nothing  RXji)^st — but  when  you  asked  her  again, 
did  she  not  tell  you  what  ailed  her  *?" 

The  question  was  put  in  a  tone  meant  to  make  her 
comprehend  the  importance  of  her  answer,  had  she  not 
been  already  aware  of  it.  The  ice  was  broken,  howev- 
er, and,  whh  less  pause  than  at  first,  she  now  replied, — 
'•'  Alack  !  alack  !  she  never  breathed  word  to  me  about 
it." 

A  deep  groan  passed  through  the  Court.  It  was  echo- 
ed by  one  deeper  and  more  agonized  from  the  unfortunate 
father.  The  hope,  to  which  unconsciously,  and  in  spite 
of  himself,  he  had  still  secretly  clung,  had  now  dissolved, 
and  the  venerable  old  man  fell  forwards  senseless  on  the 
floor  of  the  Court-house,  with  his  head  at  the  foot  of  his 
terrified  daughter.  The  unfortunate  prisoner,  with  im- 
potent passion,  strove  with  the  guards,  betwixt  whom  she 
was  placed.  "  Let  me  gang  to  my  father — I  ivill  gang 
to  him — I  will  gang  to  him — he  is  dead — he  is  killed — 1 
hae  killed  him  I" — she  repeated  in  frenzied  tones  of 
grief,  which  those  who  heard  them  did  not  speedily  forget. 

Even  in  this  moment  of  agony  and  general  confusion, 
.Jeanie  did  not  lose  that  superiority,  w^hich  a  deep  and 
firm  mind  assures  to  its  possessor,  under  the  most  trying 
circumstances. 

"  He  is  my  father — he  is  our  father,"  she  mildly  re- 
peated to  those  who  endeavoured  to  separate  them  as  she 
stooped, — shaded  aside  his  grey  hairs,  and  began  assidu- 
ously to  chafe  his  temples. 
24*     VOL.  I. 


282  TALES    or    MY   LANDLORD. 

The  Judge,  after  repeatedly  wiping  his  eyes,  gave  di- 
rections that  they  should  be  transported  into  a  neighbour- 
ing apartment,  and  carefully  attended.  The  prisoner,  as 
her  father  was  borne  from  the  Court,  and  her  sister  slow- 
ly followed,  pursued  them  with  her  eyes  so  earnestly 
fixed,  as  if  they  would  have  started  from  their  socket. 
But  when  they  were  no  longer  visible,  she  seemed  to  find, 
in  her  despairing  and  deserted  state,  a  courage  which  she 
had  not  yet  exhibited. 

"  The  bitterness  of  it  is  now  past,"  she  said,  and  then 
boldly  addressed  the  Court.  "  My  Lords,  if  it  is  your 
pleasure  to  gang  on  wi'  this  matter,  the  weariest  day  will 
hae  its  end  at  last." 

The  Judge,  who,  much  to  his  honour,  had  shared 
deeply  in  the  general  sympathy,  was  surprised  at  being 
recalled  to  his  duty  by  the  prisoner.  He  collected  him- 
self, and  requested  to  know  if  the  pannel's  counsel  had 
more  evidence  to  produce.  Fairbrother  replied,  with  an 
air  of  dejection,  that  his  proof  was  concluded. 

The  King's  Counsel  addressed  the  jury  for  the  crown. 
He  said  in  few  words,  that  no  one  could  be  more  con- 
cerned than  he  was  for  the  distressing  scene  which  they 
had  just  witnessed.  But  it  was  the  necessary  conse- 
quence of  great  crimes  to  bring  distress  and  ruin  upon  all 
connected  with  the  perpetrators.  He  briefly  reviewed 
the  proof,  in  which  he  showed  that  all  the  circumstances 
of  the  case  concurred  with  those  required  by  the  act 
under  which  the  unfortunate  prisoner  was  tried  :  That 
the  counsel  for  the  pannel  had  totally  failed  in  proving, 
that  Euphemia  Deans  had  communicated  her  situation  to 
her  sister  :  That,  respecting  her  previous  good  character, 
he  was  sorry  to  observe,  that  it  was  females  who  possessed 
the  world's  good  report,  and  to  whom  it  was  justly  valuable, 
who  were  most  strongly  tempted,  by  shame  and  fear  of 
the  world's  censure,  to  the  crime  of  infanticide  :  That 
the  child  w^as  murdered,  he  professed  to  entertain  no 
doubt.  The  vacillating  and  inconsistent  declaration  of 
the  prisoner  herself,  marked  as  it  was  by  numerous  refu- 
sals to  speak  the  truth  on  subjects,  when,  according  to  her 


THE    HEART    OF    51ID-LOTHlAy.  283 

own  story,  it  would  have  been  natural,  as  well  as  advan- 
tageous, to  have  been  candid  ;  even  this  imperfect  decla- 
ration left  no  doubt  in  his  mind  as  to  the  fate  of  the  un- 
happy infant.  Neither  could  he  doubt  that  the  pannel 
was  a  partner  iivthis  guilt.  Who  else  had  an  interest  in 
a  deed  so  inhuman  1  Surely  neither  Robertson,  nor 
Robertson's  agent,  in  whose  house  she  was  delivered,  had 
the  least  temptation  to  commit  such  a  crime,  unless  upon 
her  account,  with  her  connivance,  and  for  the  sake  of 
saving  her  reputation.  But  it  was  not  required  of  him, 
by  the  law,  that  he  should  bring  precise  proof  of  the 
murder,  or  of  the  prisoner's  accession  to  it.  It  was  the 
very  purpose  of  tlie  statute  to  substitute  a  certain  chain 
of  presumptive  evidence  in  place  of  a  probation,  which, 
in  such  cases,  it  was  peculiarly  difficult  to  obtain.  The 
jury  might  peruse  the  statute  itself,  and  tliey  had  also  the 
libel  and  interlocutor  of  relevancy  to  direct  them  in  point 
of  law.  He  put  it  to  the  conscience  of  the  jury,  that 
under  both  he  was  entitled  to  a  verdict  of  Guilt}'. 

The  charge  of  Fairbrother  was  much  cramped  by  his 
having  failed  in  the  proof  which  he  expected  to  lead. 
But  he  fought  his  losing  cause  with  courage  and  constan- 
cy. He  ventured  to  arraign  the  severity  of  the  statute 
under  which  the  young  woman  was  tried.  "  In  all  other 
cases,"  he  said,  '•  the  first  thing  required  of  the  criminal 
•Vprosecutor  was,  to  prove  unequivocally  that  the  crime 
libelled  had  actually  been  committed,  which  lawjers  call- 
ed proving  the  corpus  delicti.  But  this  statute,  made 
doubtless  with  the  best  intentions,  and  under  the  impulse 
of  a  just  horror  for  the  unnatural  crime  of  infanticide, 
ran  the  risk  of  itself  occasioning  the  worst  of  murders, 
the  death  of  an  innocent  person,  to  atone  for  a  murder 
which  may  never  have  been  corn  ruined  by  any  one.  He 
was  so  far  from  acknowledging  the  alleged  probability  of 
the  child's  violent  death,  that  he  could  not  even  allow 
that  there  was  evidence  of  its  having  ever  lived." 

The  King's  Counsel  pointed  to  the  woman's  declaration ; 
to  which  the  counsel  replied — "  A  production  concocted 
in  a  moment  of  terror  and  agony,  and  which  approach- 


284  TAIES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

ed  to  insanity,"  he  said,  "  his  learned  brother  well  knew 
was  no  sound  evidence  against  the  party  who  emitted  it. 
It  was  true,  that  a  judicial  confession,  in  presence  of  the 
Justices  themselves,  was  the  strongest  of  all  proof,  inso- 
much that  it  is  said  in  law,  that  '  in  c$Tijitentem  nulla 
sunt  partes  judicis.^  But  this  was  true  of  judicial  con- 
fession only,  by  which  law  meant  that  which  is  made  in 
presence  of  the  Justices,  and  the  sworn  inquest.  Of  extra- 
judicial confession,  all  authorities  held  with  the  illustrious 
Farinaceus,  and  Matheus,  '  confessio  extrajudicialis  in  se 
nulla  est,  et  quod  nullum  est,  non  potest  adminiculari.^ 
It  was  totally  inept,  and  void  of  all  strength  and  effect 
from  the  beginning  ;  incapable,  therefore,  of  being  bol- 
stered up  or  supported,  or,  according  to  the  law  phrase, 
adminiculated,  by  other  presumptive  circumstances.  In 
the  present  case,  therefore,  letting  the  extrajudicial  con- 
fession go,  as  it  ought  to  go,  for  nothing,"  he  contended, 
"  the  prosecutor  had  not  made  out  the  second  quality  of 
the  statute,  that  a  live  child  had  been  born  ;  and  thai,  at 
least,  ought  to  be  established  before  presumptions  were 
received  that  it  had  been  murdered.  If  any  of  the  as- 
size," he  said,  "  should  be  of  opinion  that  this  was  deal- 
ing rather  narrowly  with  the  statute,  they  ought  to  con- 
sider that  it  was  in  its  nature  highly  penal,  and  therefore 
entitled  to  no  favourable  construction." 

He  concluded  a  learned  speech  with  an  elegant  pero- 
ration on  the  scene  they  had  just  witnessed,  during  which 
Saddletree  fell  fast  asleep. 

It  was  now  the  presiding  Judge's  turn  to  address  tfce 
jury.     He  did  so  briefly  and  distinctly. 

"  It  was  for  the  jury,"  he  said,  "  to  consider  whether 
the  prosecutor  had  made  out  his  plea.  For  himself,  he 
sincerely  grieved  to  say,  that  a  shadow  of  doubt  remain- 
ed not  upon  his  mind  concerning  the  verdict  which  the 
inquest  had  to  bring  in.  He  would  not  follow  the  pris- 
oner's counsel  through  the  impeachment  which  he  had 
brought  against  the  statute  of  King  William  and  Queen 
Mary.  He  and  the  jury  were  sworn  to  judge  according 
to  the  laws  as  they  stood,  not  to  criticise,  or  evade,  or 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  285 

even  to  justify  them.  In  no  civil  case  would  a  counsel 
have  been  permitted  to  plead  his  client's  case  in  the  teeth 
of  the  law  ;  but  in  the  hard  situation  in  which  counsel 
were  often  placed  in  the  Criminal  Court,  as  well  as  out 
of  favour  to  all  presumptions  of  innocence,  he  had  not 
inclined  to  interrupt  the  learned  gentleman,  or  narrow  his 
plea.  The  present  law,  as  it  now  stood,  had  been  insti- 
tuted by  the  wisdom  of  their  fathers,  to  check  the  alarm- 
ing progress  of  a  dreadful  crime  ;  when  it  was  found  too 
severe  for  its  purpose,  it  would  doubtless  be  altered  by 
the  wisdom  of  the  legislature  ;  at  present  it  was  the  law 
of  the  land,  the  rule  of  the  court,  and,  according  to  the 
oath  which  they  had  taken,  it  must  be  that  of  the  jury. 
This  unhappy  girl's  situation  could  not  be  doubted  ;  that 
she  had  borne  a  child,  and  that  the  child  had  disappear- 
ed, were  certain  facts.  The  learned  counsel  had  failed 
to  show  that  she  had  communicated  her  situation.  All 
the  requisites  of  the  case  required  by  the  statute  were 
therefore  before  the  jury.  The  learned  gentleman  had, 
indeed,  desired  them  to  throw  out  of  consideration  the 
pannel's  own  confession,  which  was  the  plea  usually  urged 
in  penury  of  all  others,  by  counsel  in  his  situation,  who 
usually  felt  that  the  declarations  of  their  chents  bore  hard 
on  them.  But  that  the  Scottish  law  designed  that  a  cer- 
tain weight  should  be  laid  on  these  declarations,  which, 
he  admitted,  were  quodarnmodo  extrajudicial,  was  evi- 
dent from  the  universal  practice  by  which  they  were  al- 
ways produced  and  read,  as  part  of  the  prosecutor's 
probation.  In  the  present  case,  no  person,  who  had  heard 
the  witnesses  describe  the  appearance  of  the  young  wom- 
an before  she  left  Saddletree's  house,  and  contrasted  it 
with  that  of  her  state  and  condition  at  her  return  to  her 
father's,  could  have  any  doubt  that  the  fact  of  dehvery  had 
taken  place,  as  set  forth  in  her  own  declaration,  which 
was,  therefore,  not  a  solitary  piece  of  testimony,  but  ad- 
miniculated  and  supported  by  the  strongest  circumstantial 
proof. 

"  He  did  not,"  he  said,  "  state  the  impression  upon 
his  own  mind  with  the  purpose  of  biassing  theirs.      He 


286  TALES    OF   MY    LANDLORD. 

had  felt  no  less  than  they  had  done  from  the  scene  of  do- 
mestic misery  which  had  been  exhibited  before  them  ; 
and  if  they,  having  God  and  a  good  conscience,  the 
sanctity  of  their  oath,  and  the  regard  due  to  the  law  of 
their  country,  before  their  eyes,  could  come  to  a  conclu- 
sion favourable  to  this  unhappy  prisoner,  he  should  re- 
joice as  much  as  any  one  in  Court ;  for  never  had  he 
found  his  duty  more  distressing  than  in  discharging  it  that 
day,  and  glad  he  would  be  to  be  relieved  from  the  still 
more  painful  task  which  would  otherwise  remain  for  him." 
The  jury,  having  heard  the  Judge's  address,  bowed 
and  retired,  preceded  by  a  macer  of  Court,  to  the  apart- 
ment destined  for  their  deliberation. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Law,  take  thy  victim — May  she  find  the  mercy 

In  yon  mild  Heaven,  which  this  hard  world  denies  her. 

It  was  an  hour  ere  the  jurors  returned,  and  as  they 
traversed  the  crowd  with  slow  steps,  as  men  about  to  dis- 
charge themselves  of  a  heavy  and  painfid  responsibility, 
the  audience  was  hushed  into  profound,  earnest,  and  aw- 
ful silence. 

"  Have  you  agreed  on  your  chancellor,  gentlemen  '?" 
w^as  the  first  question  of  the  Judge. 

The  foreman,  called  in  Scotland  the  chancellor  of  the 
jury,  usually  the  man  of  best  rank  and  estimation  among 
the  assizers,  stepped  forward,  and,  with  a  low  reverence, 
delivered  to  the  Court  a  sealed  paper,  containing  the  ver- 
dict, which,  until  of  late  years,  that  verbal  returns  are  in 
some  instances  permitted,  was  always  couched  in  writing. 
The  jury  remained  standing  while  the  Judge  broke  the 
seals  ;  and  having  perused  the  paper,  handed  it,  with  an 
air  of  mournful  gravity,  down  to  the  clerk  of  Court  who 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAX.  2ST 

proceeded  to  engross  in  the  record  the  yet  unknown  ver- 
dict, of  which,  however,  all  omened  the  tragical  contents. 
A  form  still  remained,  trifling  and  unimportant  in  itself, 
but  to  which  imagination  adds  a  sort  of  solemnity,  from 
the  awful  occasion  upon  which  it  is  used.  A  lighted 
candle  was  placed  on  the  table,  the  original  paper  con- 
taining the  verdict  was  inclosed  in  a  sheet  of  paper,  and, 
sealed  with  the  Judge's  ov/n  signet,  was  transmitted  to 
the  Crown  Office,  to  be  preserved  among  other  records 
of  the  same  kind.  As  all  this  is  transacted  in  profound 
silence,  the  producing  and  extinguishing  th^'candle  seems 
a  type  of  the  human  spark  which  is  shortly  afteiwards 
doomed  to  be  quenched,  and  excites  in  the  spectators 
something  of  the  same  effect  which  in  England  is  ob- 
tained by  the  Judge  assuming  the  fatal  cap  of  judgment. 
When  these  preliminary  forms  had  been  gone  through, 
the  Judge  required  Euphemia  Deans  to  attend  to  the 
verdict  to  be  read. 

After  the  usual  words  of  style,  the  verdict  set  forth, 
that  the  Jury  having  made  choice  of  John  Kirk,  Esq,  to 
be  their  chancellor,  and  Thomas  Moore,  mercliant,  to  be 
their  clerk,  did,  by  a  plurality  of  voices,  find  the  said 
Euphemia  Deans  Guilty  of  the  crime  hbelled  ;  but,  in 
consideration  of  her  extreme  youth,  and  the  cruel  cir- 
cumstances of  her  case,  did  earnestly  entreat  that  the 
Judge  would  recommend  her  to  the  mercy  of  the  Crown. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  Judge,  "  you  have  done  your 
duty — and  a  painful  one  it  must  have  been  to  men  of 
humanity  like  you.  I  will  undoubtedly  transmit  your  re- 
commendation to  the  throne.  Biit  it  is  my  duty  to  tell 
all  who  now  hear  me,  but  especially  to  inform  that  un- 
happy young  woman,  in  order  that  her  mind  may  be  set- 
tled accordingly,  that  I  have  not  the  least  hope  of  a  par- 
don being  granted  in  the  present  cuse.  You  know  the 
crime  has  been  increasing  in  this  hud,  and  I  know  farth- 
er, that  this  has  been  ascribed  to  the  lenity  in  which  the 
laws  havp  been  exercised,  and  that  there  is  therefore  no 
hope  whatever  of  obtaining  a  remission  for  this  offence." 


288  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

The  Jury  bowed  again,  and,  released  from  their  painful 
office,  dispersed  among  the  mass  of  bystanders." 

The  Court  then  asked  Fairbrother,  whether  he  had 
anything  to  say,  why  judgment  should  not  follow  on  the 
verdict  '?  The  counsel  had  spent  some  time  in  perusing, 
and  reperusing  the  verdict,  counting  the  letters  in  each 
juror's  name,  and  weighing  every  phrase,  nay  every  syl- 
lable, in  the  nicest  scales  of  legal  criticism.  But  the 
clerk  of  the  jury  had  understood  his  business  too  well. 
No  flaw  w^as  to  be  found,  and  Fairbrother  mournfully  in- 
timated, that  iie  had  nothing  to  say  in  arrest  of  judgment. 

The  presiding  Judge  then  addressed  the  unhappy  pris- 
oner : — "  Euphemia  Deans,  attend  to  the  sentence  of  the 
Court  now  to  be  pronounced  against  you." 

She  rose  from  her  seat,  and,  with  a  composure  far 
greater  than  could  have  been  augured  from  her  demean- 
our during  some  parts  of  the  trial,  abode  the  conclusion 
of  the  avv'fid  scene.  So  nearly  does  the  mental  portion 
of  our  feelings  resemble  those  which  are  corporeal,  that 
the  first  severe  blows  which  we  receive  bring  with  them 
a  stunning  apathy,  which  renders  us  indifferent  to  those 
that  follow  them.  So  said  Mandrin,  when  he  was  under- 
going the  punishment  of  the  wheel ;  and  so  have  all  felt, 
upon  whom  successive  inflictions  have  descended  with 
continuous  and  reiterated  violence. 

"  Young  woman,"  said  the  Judge,  "  it  is  my  paiLiful  du- 
ty to  tell  you,  that  your  life  is  forfeited  under  a  law,  which, 
if  it  may  seem  in  some  degree  severe,  is  yet  wisely  so, 
to  render  those  of  your  unhappy  situation  aware  what 
risk  they  run,  by  concealing,  out  of  pride  or  false  shame, 
their  lapse  from  virtue,  and  making  no  preparation  to 
save  the  lives  of  the  unfortunate  infants  whom  they  are 
to  bring  into  the  w^orld.  When  you  concealed  your  situ- 
ation from  your  mistress,  your  sister,  and  other  worthy 
and  compassionate  persons  of  your  own  sex,  in  whose 
favour  your  former  conduct  had  given  you  a  fair  place, 
you  seem  to  me  to  have  had  in  your  contemplation,  at 
least  the  death  of  the  helpless  creature,  for  whose  life 
you  neglected  to  provide.      How  the  child  was  disposed 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  289 

of — whether  it  was  dealt  upon  by  another,  or  by  yourself 
— whether  the  extraordinary  story  you  have  told  is  partly 
false,  or  altogether  so,  is  between  God  and  your  own 
conscience.  1  will  not  aggravate  your  distress  by  press- 
ing on  that  topic,  but  I  do  most  solemnly  adjure  you  to 
employ  the  remaining  space  of  your  time  in  making  your 
peace  with  God,  for  which  purpose  such  reverend  cler- 
gyman, as  vou  yourself  may  name,  shall  have  access  to 
you.  Notwithstanding  the  humane  recommendation  of 
the  jury,  I  cannot  afford  to  you,  in  the  present  circum- 
stances of  the  country,  the  slighest  hope  that  your  life 
will  be  proiouged  beyond  the  period  assigned  for  the  ex- 
ecution of  your  sentence.  Forsaking,  therefore,  the 
though^  of  this  world,  let  your  mind  be  prepared  by  re- 
pentance for  those  of  more  awful  moments — for  death, 
judgment,  and  eternity. — Doomster,  read  the  sentence." 

When  the  Doomster  showed  himself,  a  tall,  haggard 
figure,  arrayed  in  a  fantastic  garment  of  black  and  grey, 
passmented  with  lace,  all  fell  back  with  a  sort  of  in- 
stinctive horror,  and  made  wide  way  for  him  to  approach 
the  fool  of  the  table.  As  this  office  was  held  by  the 
common  executioner,  men  shouldered  each  other  back- 
ward to  avoid  even  the  toucl;  of  his  garirj2;:;t,  and  some 
were  seen  to  brush  their  own  clothes,  which  had  acci- 
dentally become  subject  to  such  contamination.  A  sound 
went  through  the  court,  produced  by  each  person  draw- 
ing in  their  breath  hard,  as  men  do  when  they  expect  or 
witness  what  is  frightful,  and  at  the  same  time  affecting. 
The  caitiff  villain  yet  seemed,  amid  his  hardened  bru- 
tality, to  have  some  sense  of  his  being  the  object  of  pub- 
lic detestation,  which  made  iiim  impatient  of  being  in 
pubhc,  as  birds  of  evil  omen  are  anxious  to  escape  from 
dayhght,  and  from  pure  air. 

Repeating  after  the  Clerk  of  Court  he  gabbled  over 
the  words  of  the  sentence,  which  condemned  Euphemia 
Deans  to  be  conducted  back  to' the  Tolbooth  of  Edin- 
burgh, and  detained  there  until  W'ednesdav  I'ne day 

of ',  and  upon  that  day,  betwixt  the  hours  of  two 

25     VOL.  I. 


290  TALES    OF    MY   LANDLORD . 

and  four  o'clock  afternoon,  to  be  conveyed  to  the  common 
place  of  execution,  and  there  hanged  by  the  neck  upon  a 
gibbet.  "  And  this,"  said  the  Dooraster,  aggravating  his 
harsh  voice,  "  I  pronounce  for  doom.''^ 

He  vanished  when  he  had  spoken  the  last  emphatic 
word,  like  a  foul  fiend  after  the  purpose  of  his  visitation 
has  been  accomplished  ;  but  the  impression  of  horror, 
excited  by  his  presence  and  his  errand,  remained  upon 
the  crowd  of  spectators. 

The  unfortunate  criminal,  so  she  must  now  be  termed, 
with  more  susceptibility,  and  more  irritable  feelings  than 
her  father  and  sister,  was  found,  in  this  emergence,  to 
possess  a  considerable  share  of  their  courage.  She  had 
remained  standing  motionless  at  the  bar  while  the  sentence 
was  pronounced,  and  was  observed  to  shut  her  eyes  when 
the  Doomster  appeared.  But  she  was  the  first  to  break 
silence  when  the  evil  form  had  left  his  place. 

"  God  forgive  ye,  my  Lords,"  she  said,  "  and  dinna 
be  angry  wi'  me  for  v/ishing  it — we  a'  need  forgiveness. — 
As  for  myself,  I  canna  blame  ye,  for  ye  act  up  to  your 
lights  ;  and  if  I  havena  killed  my  poor  infant,  ye  may 
witness  a'  that  hae  seen  it  tl]is  day,  that  I  hae  been  the 
?2.tt?.Z  cf  l-Iaiing  my  grey-iieaued  father — I  deserve  the 
warst  frae  man,  and'  frae  God  too — But  God  is  mair  mer- 
eifu'  to  us  than  we  are  to  each  other." 

3Vith  these  words  llie  trial  concluded.  The  crowd 
rushed,  bearing  forward  and  shouldering  each  other,  out 
of  the  court,  in  the  same  tumultuary  mode  in  which  they 
had  entered  ;  and,  in  the  excitalioa  of  animal  motion  and 
animal  spirits,  soon  forgot  what  they  had  felt  as  impressive 
in  the  scene  which  they  had  witnessed.  The  professio'ial 
spectators,  whom  habit  and  theory  had  rendered  as  cal- 
lous to  the  distress  of  the  scene  as  medical  men  are  to 
those  of  a  surgical  operation,  walked  homeward  in  groups, 
discussing  the  general  principle  of  the  statute  under  which 
the  young  wom.an  was  condemned,  the  nature  of  the  evi- 
dence, and  the  arguments  of  the  counsel,  wiUiont  consid- 
ering even  thatof  the  judge  as  exempt  from  their  criticism. 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAX.  291 

The  female  spectators,  more  compassionate,  were  loud 
in  exclamation  against  that  part  of  the  Judge's  speech 
which  seemed  to  cut  off  the  hope  of  pardon. 

*'  Set  him  up,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Howden,  "  to  tell  us 
that  the  poor  lassie  hehoved  to  die,  when  Mr.  John  Kirk, 
as  civil  a  gentleman  as  is  within  the  ports  of  the  town, 
took  the  pains  to  prigg  for  her  himsell." 

"  Ay,  hut  neighbour,"  said  Miss  Damahoy,  drawing  up 
her  thin  maidenly  form  to  its  full  height  of  prim  dignity 
— "  I  really  think  this  unnatural  business  of  having  bas- 
tard-bairns should  be  putten  a  stop  to — There  isna  a  huzzy 
now  on  this  side  of  thirty  that  ye  can  briiig  within  }our 
doors,  but  there  will  be  chields — writer-lads,  prentice-lads, 
and  what  not — coming  traiking  after  them  for  their  de- 
struction, and  discrediting  ain's  honest  house  into  the  bar- 
gain— I  hae  nae  patience  wi'  them." 

**  Hout,  neighbour,"  said  Mrs.  Howden,  "  we  suld  Hve 
and  let  live — we  hae  been  young  ourseils,  and  we  are  no 
aye  to  judge  the  warst  when  lads  and  lasses   forgather." 

"  Young  ourseils  *?  and  judge  the  warst '?"  said  Miss 
Damahoy.  "  I  am  no  sae  auld  as  that  comes  to,  Mrs. 
Howden  ;  and  as  for  what  ye  ca'  the  warst,  I  ken  neither 
good  nor  bad  about  the  matter,  I  thank  my  stars." 

"  Ye  are  thankfu'  for  sma'  mercies,  then,"  said  Mrs. 
Howden,  with  a  toss  of  her  head  ;  "  and  as  for  you  and 
young — I  trow  ye  were  doing  for  yoursell  at  the  last  riding 
of  the  Scots  Parliament,  and  that  was  in  the  gracious  year 
seven,  sae  ye  can  be  nae  sic  chicken  at  ony  rate." 

Plumdamas,  who  acted  as  squire  of  the  body  to  the  two 
contending  dames,  instantly  saw  the  hazard  of  entering 
into  such  delicate  points  of  chronology,  and  being  a  lover 
of  peape  and  good  neighbourhood,  lost  no  time  in  bring- 
ing back  the  conversation  to  its  original  subject. 

"  The  judge  didna  tell  us  a'  he  could  hae  tell'd  us,  if 
he  had  liked,  about  the  application  for  pardon,  neigh- 
bours," said  he  ;  "  there  is  aye  a  wimple  in  a  lawyers 
clew  ;  but  it's  a  wee  bit  of  a  secret." 

"  And  what  is't  ? — what  li't,  neighbour  Plumdamas  V 
said  Mrs,  Howden  and  ^liss  Damahoy  at  once,  the  acid 


292  TALES    OF    MY    lANDlORD. 

fermentation  of  their  dispute  being  at  once  neutralized  by 
the  powerful  alkali  implied  in  the  word  secret. 

"  Here's  Mr.  Saddletree  can  tell  ye  that  better  than 
nie,  for  it  was  him  that  tauld  me,"  said  Plumdamas  as 
Saddletree  came  up,  with  his  wife  hanging  on  his  arm, 
and  looking  very  disconsolate. 

When  the  question  was  put  to  Saddletree  he  looked 
very  scornful.  "  They  speak  about  stopping  the  frequen- 
cy of  child  murther,"  said  he,  in  a  contemptuous  tone  ; 
"  do  ye  think  our  auld  enemies  of  England,  as  Glendook 
aye  ca's  them  in  his  printed  Statute-book,  cares  a  bod  die 
w!]ether  we  didna  kill  ane  anither,  skin  and  birn,  horse 
and  foot,  man,  woman,  and  bairns,  all  and  sindry,  omnes 
et  singulos,  as  Mr.  Crossmyloof  says  9  Na,  na,  it's  no 
that  hinders  them  frae  pardoning  the  bit  lassie.  But  here 
is  the  pinch  of  the  plea.  The  King  and  Queen  are  so  ill 
pleased  wi'  that  mistak  about  Porteous,  that  de'il  a  kindly 
Scot  will  they  pardon  again,  either  by  reprieve  or  remis- 
sion, if  the  haill  town  o'  Edinburgh  should  be  a'  hanged 
on  ae  tow." 

"  De'il  that  they  were  back  at  their  German  kale-yard 
then,  as  my  neighbour  MacCroskie  ca's  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Howden,  "  an  that's  the  way  they're  gaun  to  guide  us." 

"  They  say  for  certain,"  said  Miss  Damahoy,  "  that 
King  George  flang  his  periwig  in  the  fire  when  he  heard 
o'  the  Porteous  mob." 

'•  He  has  done  that,  they  say,"  replied  Saddletree, 
"  for  less  thing." 

''  Aweel,"  said  Miss  Damahoy,  "  he  might  keep  mair 
wit  in  his  anger — but  it's  a'  the  better  for  his  wigmaker, 
I'se  warrant." 

"  The  Queen  tore  her  biggonets  for  perfect  anger, — 
ye'll  hae  heard  o' that  too  9"  said  Plumdamas.  "  Anc 
the  King,  they  say,  kickit  Sir  Robert  Walpole  for  no 
keeping  down  the  mob  of  Edinburgh  ;  but  I  dinna  believe 
he  wad  behave  sae  ungenteel." 

"  It's  dooms  truth,  though,"  said  Saddletree  ;  "  and  he 
was  for  kickin  the  Duke  of  Argyle  too." 


fHE    HEART   OF   MID-LOTHIAX.  293 

"  Kickin  the  Duke  of  Argyle  !"  exclaimed  the  hearers 
at  once,  in  all  the  various  combined  keys  of  utter  aston- 
ishment. 

"  Ay,  but  MacCallumMore's  blood  wadna  sit  down 
wi'  that  ;  there  was  risk  of  Andro  Ferrara  coming  in 
third  sm  an." 

"  The  duke  is  a  real  Scotsman — a  true  friend  to  the 
country,"  answered  Saddletree's  hearers. 

"  Ay,  troth  is  he,  to  king  and  country  baith,  as  ye  shall 
hear,"  continued  the  orator,  "  if  ye  will  come  in  bye  to 
our  house,  for  it's  safest  speaking  of  sic  things  inter 
parietes.'^ 

When  they  entered  his  shop  he  thrust  his  prentice  boy 
out  of  it,  and,  unlocking  his  desk,  took  out,  with  an  air  of 
grave  and  complacent  importance,  a  dirty  and  crumpled 
piece  of  printed  paper  ;  he  observed  "  This  is  new  corn 
— it's  no  every  body  could  show  ye  the  like  of  this.  It's 
the  duke's  speech  about  the  Porteous  mob,  just  promul- 
gated by  the  hawkers.  Ye  shall  hear  what  Ian  Roy  Ceaa 
says  for  himsell.  i\fy  correspondent  bought  it  in  the 
Palace-yard,  that's  like  just  under  the  king's  nose — I 
think  he  claws  up  their  mittans. — It  came  in  a  letter  about 
a  foolish  bill  of  exchange  that  the  man  wanted  me  to  re- 
new for  him.  1  wish  ye  wad  see  about  it,  Mrs.  Sad- 
dletree." 

Honest  Mrs.  Saddletree  had  hitherto  been  so  sincerely 
distressed  about  the  situation  of  her  unfortunate  protegee, 
that  she  had  suffered  her  husband  to  proceed  in  his  own 
way,  without  attending  to  what  he  was  saying.  The 
words  bill  and  renew,  had,  however,  an  awakening  sound 
in  them  ;  and  she  snatched  the  letter  which  her  husband 
held  towards  her,  and  wiping  her  eyes,  and  putting  on  her 
spectacles,  endeavoured,  as  fast  as  the  dew  which  collect- 
ed on  her  glasses  would  permit,  to  get  at  the  meaning  of 
the  needful  part  of  the  epistle  ;  while  her  husband,  with 
pompous  elevation,  read  an  extract  from  the  speech. 

"  I  am  no  minister,  I  never  was  a  minister,  and  I  never 

will  be  one" 

25*     VOL.  I. 


294  TALES    OF   MY    LANDLORD. 

"  I  didna  ken  his  grace  was  ever  designed  for  the  min- 
istry," interrupted  Mrs.  Howden. 

"  He  disna  mean  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  Mrs.  How- 
den, but  a  minister  of  state,"  said  Saddletree  with  con- 
descending goodness,  and  then  proceeded  :  ^'  The  time 
was  when  I  might  have  been  a  piece  of  a  minister,  but  I 
was  too  sensible  of  my  own  incapacity  to  engage  in  any 
state  affair.  And  I  thank  God  that  I  had  always  too  great 
a  value  for  those  few  abihties  which  nature  has  given  me, 
to  employ  them  in  doing  any  drudgery,  or  any  job  of  what 
kind  soever.  Lhave,  ever  since  I  set  out  in  the  world, 
(and  I  beheve  few  have  set  out  more  early,)  served  my 
prince  with  my  tongue  ;  I  have  served  him  with  any  little 
interest  I  had,  and  1  have  served  him  with  my  sword,  and 
in  my  profession  of  arms.  I  have  held  employments 
w^iich  I  have  lost,  and  were  I  to  be  to-morrow-deprived 
of  those  which  still  remain  to  me,  and  vA^'ich  I  have  en- 
deavoured honestly  to  deserve,  1  would  still  serve  him  to 
the  last  acre  of  my  inheritance,  and  to  the  last  drop  of 
my  blood." 

Mrs.  Saddletree  here  broke  in  upon  the  orator. — >"  Mr. 
Saddletree,  what  is  the  meaning  of  a'  this  9  Here  are  ye 
clavering  about  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  and  this  man  Mar- 
tingale gaun  to  break  on  our  hands,  and  lose  us  gude  sixty 
pounds — I  wonder  what  duke  will  pay  that,  quotha — I 
wish  the  Duke  of  Argyle  would  pay  his  ain  accounts — He 
is  in  a  thousand  punds  Scots  on  thae  very  books  when  he 
was  last  at  Roystoun — I'm  no  saying  but  he's  a  just  no- 
bleman, and  that  it's  gude  siller — but  it  wad  drive  ane  daft 
to  be  confeised  wi'  deukes  and  drakes,  and  thae  distressed 
folk  up  stairs,  that's  Jeanie  Deans  and  her  father.  And 
then,  putting  the  very  callant  that  was  sewing  the  curple 
out  o'  the  shop,  to  play  wi'  blackguards  in  the  close — Sit 
still,  neighbours,  it's  no  that  I  mean  to  disturb  you  ;  but 
what  between  courts  o'  law  and  courts  o'  state,  and  upper 
and  under  parliaments,  and  parhament-houses,  here  and 
in  London,  the  gudeman's  gane  clean  gyte,  I  think." 

The  gossips  understood  civility,  and  the  rule  of  doing 
as  they  would  be  done  by,  too  well,  to  tarry  upon  the 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-LOTHIAN.  295 

slight  invitation  implied  in  the  conclusion  of  this  speech, 
and  therefore  made  their  farewells  and  departure  as  fast 
as  possible,  Saddletree  whispering  to  Plumdamas  that  he 
would  meet  him  at  MacCroskie's,  (the  low-broued  shop 
in  the  Luckenbooths,  already  mentioned,)  "  in  the  hour 
of  cause,  and  put  IMacCallumMore's  speech  in  his  pocket, 
for  a'  the  gudewife's  din." 

Wlien  Mrs.  Saddletree  saw  the  house  freed  of  her  im- 
portunate visiters,  and  tlie  little  boy  reclaimed  from  the 
pastimes  of  the  wynd  to  the  exercise  of  the  awl,  she  went 
to  visit  her  unhappy  relative,  David  Deans,  and  his  elder 
daughter,  who  had  found  in  her  house  the  nearest  place  of 
friendly  refuge. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Alas  !  what  poor  ability's  in  me 
To  do  him  good  ? 

Assay  the  power  you  have. 

Measure  for  Measure. 

When  Mrs.  Saddletree  entered  the  apartment  in  which 
her  guests  had  shrouded  their  misery,  she  found  the  win- 
dow darkened.  The  feebleness  which  followed  his  long 
swoon  had  rendered  it  necessary  to  lay  the  old  man  in 
bed.  The  curtains  were  drawn  around  him,  and  Jeanie 
sat  motionless  by  the  side  of  the  bed.  Mrs.  Saddletree 
was  a  woman  of  kindness,  nay,  of  feeling,  but  not  of  del- 
icacy. She  opened  the  half-shut  window,  drew  aside  the 
curtain,  and  taking  her  kinsman  by  the  hand,  exhorted  him 
to  sit  up,  and  bear  his  sorrow  like  a  good  man,  and  a 
Christian  man,  as  he  was.  But  when  she  quitted  his  hand, 
it  fell  powerless  by  his  side,  nor  did  he  attempt  the  least 
reply. 

"  Is  all  over  '?"  asked  Jeanie,  with  lips  and  cheeks  as 
pale  as  ashes, — "  And  is  there  nae  hope  for  her  V 


296  TALES   OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

"  Nane,  or  next  to  nane,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree  ;  "  I 
heard  the  Judge-carle  say  it  with  my  ain  ears — It  was  a 
burning  shame  to  see  sae  mony  o'  them  set  up  yonder  in 
their  red  gowns  and  black  gowns,  and  a'  to  take  the  life 
o'  a  bit  senseless  lassie.  I  had  never  muckle  broo  o'  my 
gudeman's  gossips,  and  now  I  like  them  waur  than  ever. 
The  only  wise-like  thing  I  heard  ony  body  say  was  decent 
Mr.  John  Kirk  of  Kirk-knowe,  and  he  wussed  them  just 
to  get  the  King's  mercy,  and  nae  mair  about  it.  But  he 
spake  to  unreasonable  folk — he  might  just  hae  keepit  his 
breath  to  hae  blawn  on  his  porridge." 

"  But  can  the  King  gie  her  mercy  9"  said  Jeanie, 
earnestly.  "  Some  folk  tell  me  he  canna  gie  mercy  in 
cases  of  mur in  cases  like  her's." 

"  Can  he  gie  mercy,  hinny  1 — I  weel  I  wot  he  can, 
when  he  likes.  There  was  young  Singlesword,  that  stickit 
the  Laird  of  Ballencleuch,  and  Captain  Hackum,  ihe 
Englishman,  that  killed  Lady  Colgrain's  gudeman,  and 
the  Master  of  Saint  Clair,  that  shot  the  twa  Shaws,  and 
mony  mair  in  my  time — to  be  sure  they  were  gentle  blude, 
and  had  their  kin  to  speak  for  them — And  there  was  Jock 
Porteous  the  other  day — I'se  warrant  there's  mercy,  an 
folk  could  win  at  it." 

"  Porteous  *]"  said  Jeanie  ;  "  very  true — I  forget  a' 
that  1  suld  maist  mind. — Fair  ye  weel,  Mrs.  Saddletree  ; 
and  may  ye  never  want  a  friend  in  the  hour  o'  distress." 

"  Will  ye  no  stay  wi'  your  father,  Jeanie,  bairn  '? — Ye 
had  better,"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree. 

"  I  will  be  wanted  ower  yonder,"  indicating  the  Tol- 
booth  with  her  hand,  "  and  1  maun  leave  him  now,  or  I 
will  never  be  able  to  leave  him.  I  fearna  for  his  life — I 
ken  how  strong-hearted  he  is — I  ken  it,"  she  said,  laying 
her  hand  on  her  bosom,  "  by  my  ain  heart  at  this  minute." 

"  Weel,  hinny,  if  ye  think  it's  for  the  best,  better  he 
stay  here  and  rest  him,  than  gang  back  to  St.  Leonard's." 

"  Muckle  better — muckle  better — God  bless  you — God 
bless  you  ! — At  no  rate  let  him  gang  till  ye  hear  frae  me," 
said  Jeanie. 


THE    HEART    OF   MID-LOTHIAN.  297 

"  But  ye'll  be  back  belive  1"  said  Mrs.  Saddletree, 
detaining  her ;  "  they  wiinna  let  ye  stay  yonder,  hinny." 

"  But  I  maun  gang  to  St.  Leonard's — there's  muckle 
to  be  done,  and  little  time  to  do  it  in — And  I  have  friends 
to  speak  to — God  bless  you — take  care  of  my  father." 

She  had  reached  the  door  of  tlie  apartment,  when  sud- 
denly turning,  she  came  back,  and  knelt  down  by  the  bed- 
side.— "  O  father,  gie  me  your  blessing — I  dare  not  go 
till  ye  bless  me.  Say  but  God  bless  ye,  and  prosper  ye, 
Jeanie — try  but  to  say  that." 

Instinctively,  rather  than  by  an  exertion  of  intellect, 
the  old  man  murmured  a  prayer,  that  "  purchased  and 
promised  blessings  might  be  multiphed  upon  her." 

*'  He  has  blessed  mine  errand,"  said  his  daughter,  ris- 
ing from  her  knees,  "  and  it  is  borne  in  upon  my  mind 
that  I  shall  prosper." 

So  saying,  she  left  the  room. 

!Mrs.  Saddletree  looked  after  her,  and  shook  her  head. 
"  I  wish  she  binna  roving,  poor  thing — There's  something 
queer  about  a'  thae  Deanses.  I  dinna  like  folk  to  be  sae 
muckle  better  than  other  folk — seldom  comes  gude  o't. 
But  if  she's  gaun  to  look  after  the  kye  at  St.  Leonard's, 
that's  another  story,  to  be  sure  they  maun  be  sorted. — 
Grizzle,  come  up  here  and  take  tent  to  the  honest  auld  man, 
and  see  he  wants  naething. — Ye  silly  tawpie,"  (addressing 
the  maid-servant  as  she  entered,)  "  what  garr'd  ye  busk 
up  your  cockernony  that  gate  9  I  think  there's  been 
aneugh  the  day  to  gie  an  awfu'  warning  about  your  cock- 
ups  and  your  fal-lal  duds — see  what  they  a'  come  to," 
Sic  he.  he.  he. 

Leaving  the  good  lady  to  her  lecture  upon  worldly  van- 
ities, we  must  transport  our  readers  to  the  cell  in  which 
the  unfortunate  Effie  Deans  was  now  immured,  being  re- 
stricted of  several  liberties  which  she  had  enjoyed  before 
the  sentence  was  pronounced. 

When  she  had  remained  about  an  hour  in  the  state  of 
stupified  horror  so  natural  in  her  situation,  she  was  dis- 
turbed by  the  opening  of  the  jarring  bolts  of  her  place  of 


298  TALES    OF    MY   LANDLORD. 

confinement,  and  RatclifFe  showed  himself.     "  It's  your 
sister,"  he  said,  "  wants  to  speak  t'ye,  Effie." 

"  1  canna  see  naebody,"  said  Effie  with  a  hasty  irrita- 
bility which  misery  had  rendered  more  acute — "  I  canna 
see  naebody,  and  least  of  a'  her — bid  her  take  care  o' 
the  auld  man — I  am  naething  to  ony  o'  them  now,  nor 
them  to  me. 

"  She  says  she  maun  see  ye,  though,"  said  Ratcliffe  ; 
and  Jeanie,  rushing  into  the  apartment,  threw  her  arms 
round  her  sister's  neck,  who  writhed  to  extricate  herself 
from  her  embrace. 

"  What  signifies  coming  to  greet  ower  me,  when  you 
have  killed  me  '? — killed  me,  when  a  word  of  your  mouth 
would  have  saved  me — kihed  me,  when  1  am  an  innocent 
creature — innocent  of  that  guilt  at  least — and  me,  that 
wad  hae  wared  body  and  soul  to  save  your  finger  from 
being  hurt  !" 

"  Yon  shall  not  die,"  said  Jeanie,  with  enthusiastic 
firmness  ;  "  say  what  ye  like  o'  me — think  what  ye  like 
o'  me — only  promise — for  1  doubt  your  proud  heart — that 
ye  wunna  harm  yourself,  and  you  shall  not  die  this  shame- 
ful death." 

"  A  shameful  death  I  will  not  die,  Jeanie,  lass.  I  have 
that  in  my  heart — though  it  has  been  ower  kind  a  ane — 
that  wunna  bide  shame.  Gae  hame  to  our  father,  and 
think  nae  mair  on  me — I  have  eat  my  last  earthly  meal." 
"  O  !  this  was  what  I  feared  !"  said  Jeanie. 
"  Hout,  tout,  hinnie,"  said  Ratcliffe  ;  "  it's  but  little  ye 
ken  o'  thae  things.  Ane  aye  thinks  at  the  first  dinnle  o' 
the  sentence,  they  hae  hearl  aneugh  to  die  rather  than 
bide  out  the  sax  weeks  ;  but  they  aye  bide  the  sax  weeks 
out  for  a'  that.  I  ken  the  gate  o't  weel  ;  1  hae  fronted 
the  doomster  three  times,  and  here  I  stand,  Jim  Ratcliffe, 
for  a'  that.  Had  I  tied  my  napkin  strait  the  first  time, 
as  I  had  a  great  mind  till't — and  it  was  a'  about  a  bit  grey 
covvt,  wasna  worth  ten  punds  sterhng — where  would  I 
liave  been  now  V 

"  And  how  did  you  escape  "?"  said  Jeanie,  the  fates  of 
this  man,  at  first  so  odious  to  her,  having  acquired  a  sud- 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-XOTIIIAX.  299 

den  interest  in  her  eyes  from  their  correspondence  with 
those  of  her  sister. 

"  How  did  I  escape  V  said  RatclifFe,  with  a  knowing 
wink, — "  I  tell  ye  I  scapit  in  a  way  that  naebody  will  es- 
cape from  this  tolbooth  while  1  keep  the  keys." 

"  My  sister  shall  come  out  in  the  face  of  the  sun," 
said  Jeanie  ;  "  I  will  go  to  London,  and  beg  her  pardon 
from  the  King  and  Queen.  If  they  pardoned  Porteous, 
they  may  pardon  her  ;  if  a  sister  asks  a  sister's  life  on 
her  bended  knees,  they  will  pardon  her — they  shall  par- 
don her — and  they  sball  win  a  thousand  hearts  by  it." 

Ethe  hstened  in  bewildered  astonishment,  and  so  earn- 
est was  her  sister's  enthusiastic  assurance,  that  she  almost 
involuntarily  caught  a  gleam  of  hope,  but  it  instantly 
faded  away. 

"  Ah,  Jeanie  !  the  King  and  Queen  live  in  London, 
a  thousand  miles  from  this — far  ayont  the  saut  sea  ;  I'll 
be  gane  before  ye  win  there." 

"  You  are  mista'en,"  said  Jeanie  ;  "  it  is  no  sae  far, 
and  they  go  to  it  by  land  ;  T  learned  something  about  thae 
things' from  Reuben  Butler." 

"  Ah,  Jeanie  !  ye  never  learned  onything  but  what  was 
gude  frae  the  folk  ye  keepit  company  wi' ;  butl — butl"^ 
— she  wrung  her  hands  and  wept  bitterly. 

"  Dhma  think  on  that  now,"  said  Jeanie  ;  "  there  will 
be  time  for  that  if  the  present  space  be  redeemed. — Fare 
ye  week  Unless  f  die  by  the  road,  I  will  see  the  King's 
face  that  gies  grace. — O,  sir,"  (to  RatcliiFe,)  "  be  kind 
to  her — She  ne'er  kenn'd  what  it  was  to  need  stranger's 
kindness  till  now — Fareweel — fareweel,  Effie — Dinna 
speak  to  me — I  maunna  greet  now — my  head's  ower 
dizzy  already." 

She  tore  herself  from  her  sister's  arms,  and  left  the  cell. 
RatcliiFe  followed  her,  and  beckotied  her  into  a  small 
room.     She  obeyed  his  signal,  but  not  without  trembling. 

"  What's  the  fule  thing  shaking  for  9"  said  he  ;  "  I 
mean  nothing  but  civihty  to  you — D — n  me,  I  respect 
you,  and  I  can't  help  it.  You  have  so  much  spunk,  rhat, 
d — n  me,  but  I  think  there's  some  chance  of  your  carry- 


300  TALES    OF   MY    LANDLORD. 

ing  the  day.  But  you  must  not  go  to  the  King  till  you 
have  made  some  friend  ;  try  the  duke — try  iVlacCalhim- 
A'?ore  ;  he's  Scotland's  friend — I  ken  that  the  great  folks 
dinna  muckle  like  him — but  they  fear  him,  and  that  will 
serve  your  purpose  as  weel.  D'ye  ken  naebody  wad  gie 
ye  a  letter  to  him  9" 

"  Duke  of  Argyle  9"  said  Jeanie,  recollecting  hers'lf 
suddenly — "  what  was  he  to  that  Argyle  that  suffered  in 
my  father's  time — in  the  persecution  1 

"  His  son  or  grandson,  I'm  thinking,"  said  Ratcliife  ; 
"  but  what  o'  that  V 

"  Thank  God  !"  said  Jeanie,  devoutly  clasping  her 
hands. 

"  You  whigs  are  aye  thanking  God  f^or  something," 
said  the  ruffian.  "  But  hark  ye,  hinny,  I'll  tell  ye  a  se- 
cret. Ye  may  meet  wi'  rough  customers  on  the  Bor  Jer, 
or  in  the  Mid-land,  afore  ye  get  to  Lunuun.  Now  de'il 
ane  o'  them  will  touch  an  acquaintance  o'  Daddie  Rattan  ; 
for  rhough  I  am  retired  frae  public  practice,  yet  they  ken 
I  can  do  a  gude  or  an  ill  turn  yet — and  de'il  a  gude  fellovv 
that  has  been  but  a  twelvemonth  on  the  lay,  be  he  ruffler 
or  padder,  but  he  knows  my  gybe^  as  well  as  the  jarkf 
of  e'er  a  queer  cuffinj  in  England — and  there's  rogue's 
Latin  for  you." 

It  was,  indeed,  totally  unintelligible  to  Jeanie  Deans, 
who  was  only  impatient  to  escape  from  him.  He  hastily 
scrawled  a  line  or  two  on  a  dirty  piece  of  paper,  and  said 
to  her,  as  she  drew  back  when  he  offered  it,  "  Hey  !  what 
the  de'il — it  wunna  bite  you,  my  lass — if  it  does  nae' 
gude,  it  can  do  nae  ill.  But  1  wish  you  to  show  it,  if  you 
have  ony  fasherie  wi'  ony  o'  St.  Nicolas's  clerks." 

"  Alas  !"  said  she,  "  I  do  not  understand  what  you 
mean  9" 

"  I  mean  if  ye  fall  among  thieves,  my  precious, — that 
is  a  Scripture  phrase,  if  ye  will  hae  ane — the  bauldestof 
them  w\\\  ken  a  scart  o'  my  guse  feather. — And  now  awa' 

*  Pass.  t  Seal.  t  Justice  of  Peace. 


THE    HEART   OF   MID-LOTHIAX .  301 

wi'  ye — and  stick  to  Argyle  ;  if  ony  body  can  do  the  job, 
it  taaun  be  him." 

After  casting  an  anxious  look  at  the  grated  windows 
and  blackened  walls  of  the  old  Tolbooth,  and  another 
scarce  less  anxious  at  the  hospitable  lodging  of  Mrs.  Sad- 
dletree, Jeanie  turned  her  back  on  that  quarter,  and  soon 
after  on  the  city  itself.  She  reached  St.  Leonard's  Crags 
without  meeting  any  one  whom  she  knew,  which,  in  the 
state  of  her  mind,  she  considered  as  a  great  blessing. 
"  I  must  do  naething,"  she  thought,  as  she  went  along, 
"  that  can  soften  or  weaken  my  heart — it's  ower  weak 
already  for  what  I  hae  to  do.  I  will  think  and  act  as 
firmly  as  I  can,  and  speak  as  little." 

There  was  an  ancient  female  servant  or  rather  cottar  of 
her  father's  who  had  lived  under  him  for  many  years,  and 
whose  fidelity  was  worthy  of  full  confidence.  She  sent 
for  this  woman,  and,  explaining  to  her  that  the  circum- 
stances of  ber  family  required  that  she  should  undertake 
a  journey,  which  would  detain  her  for  some  weeks  from 
home,  she  gave  her  full  instructions  concerning  the  man- 
agement of  the  domestic  concerns  in  her  absence.  With 
a  precision,  which,  upon  reflection,  she  herself  could  not 
help  wondering  at,  she  described  and  detailed  the  most 
minute  steps  which  were  to  be  taken,  and  especially  such 
as  were  necessary  for  her  father's  comfort.  "  It  was 
probable,"  she  said,  "  that  he  would  return  to  St.  Leon- 
ard's to-morrow  ;  certain  that  he  would  return  very  soon 
— all  must  be  in  order  for  him.  He  had  enough  to  dis- 
tress him,  without  being  fashed  about  vvarldly  matters." 

In  the  meanwhile  she  toiled  busily,  along  with  May 
Hettly,  to  leave  nothing  unarranged. 

It  was  deep  in  the  night  when  all  these  matters  were 
settled  ;  and  when  they  had  partaken  of  some  food,  the 
first  which  Jeanie  had  tasted  on  that  eventful  day.  May 
Hettly,  whose  usual  residence  was  a  cottage  at  a  little  dis- 
tance from  Deans's  house,  asked  her  young  mistress, 
whether  she  would  not  permit  her  to  remain  in  the  house 
all  night.  "  Ye  hae  had  an  awfu'  day,"  she  said,  '«  and 
26     VOL.  I. 


302  TALES    OF    MY    LANDLORD. 

sorrow  and  fear  are  but  bad  companions  in  the  watches  of 
the  night,  as  I  hae  heard  the  gudeman  say  himsell." 

*'  They  are  ill  companions,  indeed,"  said  Jeanie  ;  "  but 
I  maun  learn  to  abide  their  presence,  and  better  begin  in 
the  house  than  in  the  field." 

She  dismissed  her  aged  assistant  accordingly, — for  so 
slight  was  the  gradation  in  their  rank  of  hfe,  that  we  can 
hardly  term  May  a  servant, — and  proceeded  to  make  a 
few  preparations  for  her  journey. 

The  simplicity  of  her  education  and  country  made  these 
preparations  very  brief  and  easy.  Her  tartan  screen 
served  all  the  purposes  of  a  riding-habit,  and  of  an  um- 
brella ;  a  small  bundle  contained  such  changes  of  linen 
as  were  absolutely  necessary.  Barefooted,  as  Sancho 
says,  she  had  come  into  the  w^orld,  and  barefooted  she 
proposed  to  perform  her  pilgrimage  ;  and  her  clean  shoes 
and  change  of  snow-white  thread  stockings  were  to  be 
reserved  for  special  occasions  of  ceremony.  She  was  not 
aware,  that  the  English  habits  of  comfort  attach  an  idea 
of  abject  misery  to  the  idea  of  a  barefooted  traveller  ; 
and  if  the  objection  of  cleanUness  had  been  made  to  the 
practice,  she  would  have  been  apt  to  vindicate  herself  up- 
on the  very  frequent  ablutions  to  which  with  Mahometan 
scrupulosity,  a  Scotch  damsel  of  some  condition  usually 
subjects  herself.     Thus  far  therefore  all  was  well. 

From  an  oaken  press  or  cabinet,  in  which  her  father 
kept  a  few  old  books,  and  two  or  three  bundles  of  papers, 
besides  his  ordinary  accounts  and  receipts,  she  sought  out 
and  extracted  from  a  parcel  of  notes  of  sermons,  calcu- 
lations of  interest,  records  of  dying  speeches  of  the  mar- 
tyrs, and  the  like,  one  or  two  documents  which  she  thought 
might  be  of  some  use  to  her  upon  her  mission.  But  the 
most  important  difficulty  remained  behind,  and  it  had  not 
occurred  to  her  until  that  very  evening.  It  was  the  want 
of  money,  without  which  it  was  impossible  she  should  un- 
dertake so  distant  a  journey  as  she  now  meditated. 

David  Deans,  as  we  have  said,  was  easy,  and  even 
opulent  in  his  circumstances.  But  his  wealth,  like  that 
of  the  patriarchs  of  old,  consisted  in  his  kine  and  herds, 


THE    HEART    OF    MID-XOTHIAN.  303 

and  in  two  or  three  sums  lent  out  at  interest  to  neighbours 
or  relatives,  who,  far  from  being  in  circumstances  to  pay 
anything  to  account  of  the  principal  sums,  thought  they 
did  all  that  was  incumbent  on  them,  when,  with  consider- 
able difficulty,  they  discharged  '*  the  annual  rent."  To 
these  debtors  it  would  be  in  vain,  therefore,  to  apply,  even 
with  her  father's  concurrence  ;  nor  could  she  hope  to 
obtain  such  concurrence,  or  assistance  in  any  mode,  with- 
out such  a  series  of  explanations  and  debates  as  she  felt 
might  deprive  her  totally  of  the  power  of  taking  the  step, 
which,  however  daring  and  hazardous,  she  felt  was  abso- 
lutely necessary  for  trying  the  last  chance  in  favour  of  her 
sister.  Without  departing  from  filial  reverence,  Jeanie 
had  an  inward  conviction  that  the  feelings  of  her  father, 
however  just,  and  upright,  and  honourable,  were  too  httle 
in  unison  with  the  spirit  of  the  time  to  admit  of  his  being 
a  good  judge  of  the  measures  to  be  adopted  in  this  crisis. 
Herself  more  flexible  in  manner,  though  no  less  upright 
in  principle,  she  felt  that  to  ask  his  consent  to  her  pil- 
grimage would  be  to  encounter  the  risk  of  drawing  down 
his  positive  prohibition,  and  under  that  she  believed  her 
journey  could  not  be  blessed  in  its  progress  and  event. 
Accordingly,  she  had  determined  upon  the  means  by 
which  she  might  communicate  to  him  her  undertaking 
and  its  purpose,  shortly  after  her  actual  departure.  But 
it  was  impossible  to  apply  to  him  for  money  without  alter- 
ing this  arrangement,  and  discussing  fully  the  propriety  of 
her  journey  ;  pecuniary  assistance  from  that  quarter, 
therefore,  was  laid  out  of  the  question. 

It  now  occurred  to  Jeanie  that  she  should  have  con- 
sulted with  Mrs.  Saddletree  on  this  subject.  But,  be- 
sides the  time  that  must  now  necessarily  be  lost  in  recur- 
ring to  her  assistance,  Jeanie  internally  revolted  from  it. 
Her  heart  acknowledged  the  goodness  of  Mrs.  Saddle- 
tree's general  character,  and  the  kind  interest  she  took  in 
their  family  misfortunes ;  but  still  she  felt  that  Mrs.  Sad- 
dletree was  a  woman  of  an  ordinary  and  vc'orldly  way  of 
thinking,  incapable,  from  habit  and  temperament,  of 
taking  a  keen  or  enthusiastic  view  of  such  a  resolution  as 


304  TJlLES    of   my   lANDlORD. 

she  had  formed  ;  and  to  debate  the  point  with  her,  and 
to  rely  upon  her  conviction  of  its  propriety  for  the  means 
of  carrying  it  into  execution,  would  have  been  gall  and 
wormwood. 

Butler,  whose  assistance  she  might  have  been  assured 
of,  was  greatly  poorer  than  herself.  In  these  circum- 
stances, she  formed  a  singular  resolution  for  the  purpose 
of  surmounting  this  difficulty,  the  execution  of  which 
will  form  the  subject  of  the  next  chapter. 


END    OF    VOLUME    I. 


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